


Downshift

by littleblue_eyedbird



Series: Pride and Joy [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition, Solavellan - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Car Sex, Eventual Smut, F/M, Flemeth trolls Solas haha, Fluff and Angst, Lavellan fails her drivers test...miserably, Modern AU, Slow Burn, Solas works at a dmv during the day and is a street racer by night, Street Racing, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, dmv au, that goes by alias of Fen'Harel/The Dread Wolf
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-02
Updated: 2016-09-07
Packaged: 2018-04-29 13:19:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 29,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5129057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleblue_eyedbird/pseuds/littleblue_eyedbird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Solas works at Haven's DMV by day, and is a street racer that goes by the Alias of "Fen'Harel"/"The Dread Wolf" by night. One fateful morning, Elena Lavellan comes in to test for her driver's license....and fails miserably.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Halla in the Headlights

“Ah, excuse me?” a soft voice piped up, “I’m here for my 11:00 A.M. appointment?”

“Name?” Solas curtly inquired, without looking away from the computer behind his portion of the long desk spanning the room of the DMV lobby.

“Elena Lavellan.”

“Lavellan?” He echoed, surprise seeping into his voice. He set aside the cup tea he had been holding and kept his eyes focused on the screen in front of him as he typed her name into the computer system.

Sure enough, her appointment popped up in italicized black letters under his rotation schedule the moment he hit search. Lavellan wasn’t exactly a common surname; in fact, it was more often associated with one of the more well-known….. _Oh no_.

He groaned internally before he finally glanced over at the petite woman in question; she was staring at him expectantly with bright eyes, a wide smile flitting across her dainty features as she clutched a stack of papers to her chest. Solas let his gaze linger over the looping lines of the vallaslin marking her face.

_Dalish._

“Yes, Elena Lavellan. Did I get the time wrong?” Her face slowly fell, “I swore I put the right time in my calendar!” One of her hands immediately went into her purse, digging through it for her phone.

“No, no. You are correct. Forgive me, you are….not what I was expecting.” Solas finished reluctantly.

She chirped a light laugh. “It’s okay, I imagine a Dalish testing for her driver’s license isn’t exactly a common sight.”

That was an understatement.

“I was under the impression the Dalish did not use cars on their reservations, and have no need to seek a license.”

“Well some of us have jobs off the reservation, and last time I checked, the city is no place for halla.” She said jokingly.

There was no amount of tea large enough that could prepare him for this.

Ignoring her last statement, he got back to business, “I assume you brought all the necessary paper work and requirements.”

He stood and held out his hand.

“Ah, yes, Birth Certificate, Permit, Insurance, check, and proof I passed the written test...” She quickly shoved the stack of papers she had been holding into his hand.

He plucked her permit out from the pile and gave it back.

“You’re going to need that. My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions. You may meet me at the far end of the room.”

He then turned, leafing through the rest of her paperwork to double check it was complete.  He scanned her birth certificate out of curiosity.

 _Elena Nehnisa Lavellan_.

He skipped over the rest of it and settled on her birthday, May 31st, 1987.

28\. It struck him as odd that if she wanted her license that she would wait so long before testing. Most people interested in driving wanted to get their driver’s licenses as soon as possible; almost immediately after their year of permit driving. Even the rare Dalish individual who expressed an interest in driving followed the same pattern. This woman didn’t particularly seem to care that she waited nearly ten years past the norm.

Solas dropped her paperwork on the desk of the temp who sat directly behind him. He was toying with his finely groomed moustache while carrying out whatever heated debated he was engaged in on the phone.

“Dorian.” Solas interrupted.

Dorian cupped the edge of the phone so the person on the line wouldn’t hear him.

“Yes Sol--Ah dear maker! You look dreadful.”

 Solas sighed.

“Make copies of those for our records. Elena Lavellan.” He said, gesturing at the papers.

Dorian’s eyebrow quirked up in amusement. He leaned back in his chair around Solas to get a better view at the woman in question; she was waiting ardently by the end of the desk adjacent to the set of doors leading to the parking lot, smoothing out the wrinkles in her sweater.

“And now I can see why. Flemeth sure has it out for you, assigning all the aspiring Dalish drivers under your rotation.” Dorian laughs to himself, stealing another peek at Elena. “You know Solas, she’s quite adorable. You might actually enjoy your job this morning.”

Solas groaned and walked away, dismissing Dorian’s comments with a wave of his hand. But Dorian brought up a valid point; his supervisor did have a tendency to assign him clients she knew would test him. He was going to need to have a long talk with Flemeth after this.

He snagged his work commissioned black wind breaker that had “ _Haven’s Department of Motor_ _Vehicles_ ” written in bright white block lettering off the coat rack and shimmied into it. He also grabbed a clipboard and pen before pushing past the gate that separated the lobby from various offices behind the desk to meet Elena.

He appraised her again, this time not letting himself get distracted by her vallaslin. Bright blue eyes beamed up at him from a mop of loose black curls that had fallen loose from a messily crafted bun. She also had a thick splattering of freckles that speckled their way over the bridge of her small, slightly crooked nose and across her cheeks. A warm smile tugged at her lips as he approached. Solas felt his chest tighten.

Ah. _Damn it_.

She was adorable.

“After you, Ms. Lavellan.” Solas said, attempting to quell sudden fluttering in his chest, and opened one of the glass doors for her.

 “She can’t be _nearly_ as bad as the last one.” Dorian called out to Solas as he followed Elena out into the daylight.

Maybe Dorian was right.

* * *

 

As it turns out, Dorian couldn’t possibly have been more wrong.

“STOP.” Solas yelled, his palms slamming against the dashboard to steady him as Elena brought the car screeching to halt along the side of the road.

Saying Elena was a bad driver would be a courtesy.

She was an atrocious driver.

Her whole demeanor had changed once she buckled herself in. Gone was the warmly grinning woman from the lobby and in her place was one severely spooked halla. Solas could see her eyes widening in panic the longer they drove; the tension rising in her was tangible as they made their way onto increasingly difficult roads.

And her highway driving was a nightmare.

Solas lost track of how many rules she had broken and abandoned his clipboard all together in attempt to guide her back to a safe part of the road.

They sat there for a few minutes, hearts racing and breathing fast.

“Did you even attempt to drive in the time you’ve had your permit?” He scolded, breaking the silence and retracting a hand from the dashboard to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“Yes!” She said defensively, “I practiced….some….”

And then she mumbled something unintelligible.

“Come again?” Solas probed, peering over at her.

Her fingers were gripping the steering wheel so hard her knuckles blanched, causing the freckles on her hands to become more prominent in contrast.

“I didn’t exactly practice with a car per se….”  She looked at him sheepishly. “You said it yourself, the Dalish don’t really drive so it’s not like anyone has a car parked about to practice with. So I had to improvise.”

Solas stared at her in mild horror.

“I thought our tractors would suffic—“

“You thought you could learn to drive on a _tractor_?”

“Well yeah, Dalish!” She pointed to the blue ink on her face. “I figured it couldn’t be that much different, they operate simil—“

“Driving is not just about understanding how to operate the vehicle!” He cut her off exasperatedly, “It is much more complex than that. You passed your written test! You should know how important it is to be cognizant of the rules of road.”

“Much easier said than done!” She countered, red faced and flustered.

“Evidently.”

Solas unfastened his seatbelt and threw open the passenger door, stepping out. It took every ounce of his self-restraint to not stomp around the nose of the car to the driver’s side.

He yanked the door open and pointed forcefully.

“Out.”

Her fawn like eyes met his. Regret coiled in his stomach as he watched at the shame and embarrassment swirl in their light blue pools.

He softened slightly, he dropped his gesture amended his command, “Please.”

Elena slipped out of the driver’s seat and skirted around to the other side.

Solas adjusted the seat, the mirrors, and refastened his buckle as she slid into the seat beside him.

“Seatbelt.” He gently reminded her in an even tone.

He checked his surroundings before pulling out onto the road again. For him, driving was easy; navigating roads was second nature and came as natural as breathing. He could easily acclimate to any type of car, any type driving, and any type of course.

He felt the weight of her lingering stare and got the impression he was being watched closely.

“How are you so good at this?” Elena finally asked.

“Lots of experience.”

“That…makes sense.” She finished lamely.

He would have laughed at her bluntness but he reminded himself he was still mad at her. No matter how cute she was when she blushed.

After that, they drove back to the DMV in silence.

A few times, Elena would turn to him and open her mouth as if to ask another question, only to quickly snap it shut and hastily turn to look out the window. She regained her voice as they pulled into the parking lot.

“So….” Elena started to say as he parked the car.

“So. I believe it is obvious and goes without saying, but I will regardless. You are not receiving a license.” Solas stated as grabbed his clipboard and exited the vehicle. He strode towards the entrance to the building, Elena close on his heels.

“How long must I wait before I retest? Can I try again later today?”

He chuckled sardonically, “Was that a serious question?”

She stared at him in confusion.

“You will not have, by some miracle, figured out how to drive any better than you did during your first attempt in a few hours. You need _real_ driving experience before you can even consider retaking the driving exam.” Solas explained, stopping in front of the glass doors.

“But I really need to get my license. I’m going to be required to drive for my job.”

“I sincerely hope you are joking.”

The look on her face told him she was sincerely not.

Her expression melted away some of his annoyance, and he held the door for her again, “Here at our facility we offer a driver’s training course, which I highly recommend you look into. The sessions are designed to teach you everything a beginning driver needs to know, and is taught by the most experienced instructors.”

“Instructors such as you?” She inquired as she passed through.

“Yes, such as I.”

“So if I enroll, will you teach me?”

“I…” Solas paused in front the of desk gate and considered his words.

 He didn’t want to hurt her feelings, but she was a terrible driver and very well could be a hopeless case. But never has he once turned away the opportunity to teach someone, anyone willing to listen he would tutor.

Though teaching Dalish in the past had never turned out well for him. His previous Dalish students never wanted to adhere to his advice, would get into very heated arguments, and always terminate the lessons. He couldn’t simply flat out tell her that he thought most, if not all, Dalish student drivers are stubborn, refuse to take direction, and can’t learn how to drive. But he never had issues with elves that lived in the city, or any other race for that matter.  Just the Dalish.

Deep down, he knew why was so uptight towards her people, and inadvertently her. His own history got in the way.

 “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He unlocked the gate and tried to get through, but Elena was too quick. She rapidly snuck around him, and planted herself firmly in his path.

“Why not.”

Her eyebrows furrowed, drawing his attention back to the icy blue lines honoring Sylaise inked on her face. She didn’t miss where his focus went to.

“ _Ohh_ ,” She snubbed, crossing her arms over her chest. “It’s because I’m Dalish, isn’t it.

Out of the corner of his eye, Solas saw Dorian’s head pop over the desk divider separating his space from the temp adjacent to him, not even remotely trying to hide the fact he was eavesdropping.

“Not entirely.” Solas tried to side step her, but Elena mirrored him. “But the Dalish do have a tendency to be fickle in their commitment.”

“So you’re just going to assume that I’m going to be the same way, and not take me?” She said, annoyance slipping into her voice as she moved to the side again to prevent him from getting around her.

“I have yet to check my lesson schedule, I might not be able to take on any new students at this time.” He said evasively.

 “You can.” Dorian’s sing song voice cut into their conversation, “I have the schedules up right now.”

Dorian flashed him a dazzling smile.

“You stay out of this.” Solas glared at him.

“I’ll prove to you that the Dalish can learn to drive!” She said, attempting to jab him in the chest with a finger, but he caught her hand before she could actually poke him.

Solas’ heart skipped a beat at his sudden, impulsive contact; a pleasant sensation ran down the length of his spine and pooled in his gut. Her fingers were soft and slender, and oh so warm. He averted his eyes from their interlocked fingers and met her gaze, causing her flush a lovely shade of pink. The sensation within him amplified.   

“I told you once already, it’s probably not a good id—“

“Well, well, what have we here?” Another voice added itself to fray.

The woman it belonged to came sauntering out of her office at the commotion. She was dressed in a steel gray suit, her heels clicking against the linoleum floor as she approached. Her white hair pulled back in rivets, accentuating the intensity of her piercing amber eyes that flicked amusingly between Solas and Elena.

“Good afternoon Flemeth.” Solas said in a clipped tone, releasing Elena’s fingers as politely as he could.

Elena whipped around and introduced herself. “I’m Elena Lavellan, and I’m interested in taking your driver’s training course. And I asked Solas to be my instructor, but ah, he,” She nodded her head sharply in Solas’ direction, “won’t take me.”

Flemeth inspected the woman before her, and Solas had the sinking feeling his fate was sealed before his supervisor had even opened her mouth.

“He won’t? Such a shame, there is much potential I see in you.” Flemeth’s eyes met his.

Solas mouthed “Absolutely not”.

Amusement danced like flames in her eyes, “Of course Solas will take you, I’ll make sure you’re on his rotation. You’ll start next week, Monday if it suits you. I’ll let him work out an exact time. Should he give you any problems child, you know where to find me.” She spun on her heel and began to walk away.

“Dorian, how are those file transfers coming along?” She added over her shoulder before returning to her office, leaving as quickly as she came.

Dorian’s head immediately dipped out of sight.

 “Early mornings work best for me.” Elena chirped smugly.

Not only was she Dalish, she was also a morning person. Splendid.

“The earliest time slot we offer starts at eight.” Solas said, giving in. It was his duty after all, and least she was willing to learn. He could respect that.

 “Sounds perfect!”

 “You’ll receive an email explaining the program further, and what to expect. You will confirm your appointment online. Do you have any other questions for me Ms. Lavellan?”

“Not at the moment, but I’m sure I’ll have some lined up next week. See you Monday, bright and early!” She beamed another adorably, smug smile his way and finally walked out.

He extracted Elena’s unfinished exam from the clipboard and tossed the board in the designated bin before making his way back to his desk. He noted Dorian was trying to contain his snickering behind a hand clamped over his mouth, but was failing.  Rolling the exam paper still in his hand, Solas lightly smacked the Tevinter upside the head, mussing his painstakingly styled hair.

“Quiet, you.”

“Hey!” His hands flew to his hair, perfecting it back into place, “You have to admit, this was the most entertaining debacle we’ve seen all month Solas. I do look forward to seeing how this plays out.”

Solas stole a glance through the entry doors.  Elena was outside sitting on the bench, waiting for someone to pick her up, looking hopeful.

Maybe she was different.

He shook his head, clearing Elena from his thoughts and turned to leave Dorian’s desk. He now had a lot of work to do before he could begin preparing for the night ahead.

When his shift finally ended, he had managed to test three more students, aid Dorian in his file transfers, and finish the enrollment process for Elena. He couldn’t wait to get out of this boring excuse of a day job, and slip into his real passion.

He knocked at his supervisor’s door on his way out.

“Solas,” Flemeth’s voice beckoned from within her room. Solas walked in.

 “I have been meaning to speak with you about my latest assignment.”

“You’re displeased with my decision.”

“Putting it simply, yes.”

“You think it unwise.”

“It will not end well. I believe Elena will be better suited with another instructor.”

“This is where you and I disagree. I think the two of you have a lot to learn from each other.”

“You are aware of my history with the Dalish, I wish not to cause unnecessary conflict. It can be avoided if she was instructed by someone else.”

As the words spilled from his mouth, he suddenly wanted to take them all back. There was a tiny part of him that did want to be her instructor; to be proven wrong about the Dalish. Her determination and willingness to learn had left a rare impression on him.

And the fact that she genuinely wanted him to be the one to teach her was a little flattering.

Flemeth gave him a knowing look. “She will be good for you.”

“What is good for me is unimportant. If you truly believe this will be good for her, then I will defer to your judgment.” Solas complied with a nod, and turned to exit the office.

“One more thing…”

He stopped in his tracks, glancing over his shoulder.

“Good luck tonight, old friend.”

* * *

 

The roar of crowd was muted from the inside of his black Bugatti Veyron, its windows deeply tinted to protect his identity from the fans gathering along the side of the street. Curious eyes were dying to get glimpse of the illusive Dread Wolf as he rolled into his place among the other racers. The revving of engines filled the air as the competitors around him anticipated the start of the circuit.

The thrill of racing, the freedom of the road, it sang to him. Solas watched, excitement building with each step the flagger took, darting into the middle of the street a hundred feet in front of them.

 She raised the flags in her hands high above her head, waving them to command all the attention.

The crowd’s reaction is instantaneous; the cheers and bellowing grew louder, rowdier and more demanding.

Solas took a deep breath and prepared his ritual of counting down the seconds until the flagger dropped her flags, signaling the start of the race.

**_3_ **

Long fingers comfortably gripped his steering wheel as he shifted into a comfortable position in his seat.

_**2** _

The cheers and screaming from the outside world started fading away as he focused his attention down the stretch of road before him.

**_1_ **

**_Revas._ **


	2. Just Another Manic Monday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elena's first lesson :)

The drive through the Lavellan Reservation was actually very relaxing. The beautiful ironbark trees were aethestically pleasing to look at, and cast intricate shadows along the forest floor. Solas liked forests, they were peaceful.

But as Solas pulled up to address Elena had given him through the online application, his mindset changed. He almost immediately regretted his decision to follow through with this. The Dalish lived in log cabins scattered throughout the dense forest their land was sanctioned on, with winding, narrow dirt roads serving as the only pathways to navigate the encampment.  Solas winced as he imagined Elena on her tractor barreling down these roads.

Solas took a deep breath and reminded himself that this was still his duty and he had to see it through. There was no turning back.

Solas parked and exited the vehicle. He approached the cabin with renewed purpose, only to stop right in front of the door when he heard people going at it inside, wafting through an open window. He contemplated calling it an argument, but the voices weren’t angry yet; if anything they were becoming more distressed and melancholic the longer he stood there hovering.

“You don’t have to do this.”

“I know, but it’ll be easier. For everyone.”

Solas recognized the latter voice as Elena’s.

“I don’t want you to think that the Clan doesn’t—“

“I don’t think that way, this is what I want.” Elena said, clearly agitated.

Solas shifted his weight uncomfortably as something very fragile shattered behind the door. The voices became more insistent, rising in volume as others joined in.This wasn’t a conversation he should be over hearing but his curiosity was piqued. He lingered a moment longer and then checked his watch.  7:58. It was now or never, time to knock.

He never got the chance.

The door swung wide before he could put his hand out to block it, smacking him the face. He groaned audibly, clutching at his forehead as he stumbled backwards a few steps. Two small children bolted from behind it a half a second later.

“ _Ir abelas, Hahren_!!” One of them squeaked, nearly running into his knees before madly dashing around him.

 _Children_.

A moment later Elena stormed out, a yellow sundress rippled around her legs as she lunged to grab the boy who hadn’t spoken, but he dodged her swipe and quickly followed his lethallin around Solas and into the trees. She stopped going after them as she took in Solas holding his face.

“Did they just…” She looked between the door and Solas, a hand flew to her mouth. “I am so sorry, are you alright?” She apologized, immediately fliting over to him and invading his personal space, trying to get a better look at the damage; her face was contorted into shocked concern.

“It is a minor grievance, I will be fine.” Solas pulled away, gently rubbing the tender spot above his eyebrow and glared in the direction the children ran off in.

Elena followed his stare.

“They’re a handful, and quite hard to keep track of sometimes. The twins are notorious for their mischievous behavior.” She said conversationally.

“Were they the ones responsible for breaking…?”

“Oh, you overheard that…” She rubbed the back of her neck, and looked back at the cabin. A figure standing in the window abruptly moved out of sight. “It was an accident, something was bound to break.  Today was...it’s been rough.”

Solas shot her an inquisitive look with a follow up question, “Are they yours?”

 “Creators, no!” She shook her head, curls bouncing around her face, “They belong to someone still inside. We had a lot of people walking in and out of the house this morning, you know, “Dalish open door policy”.”

 “I find that habit of the Dalish a bit intrusive.” Solas said before he could stop himself.

“You have no idea.” She said rolling her eyes before letting them settle on him.

Did she…just agree with him?

He gestured towards the car. “Are you ready to begin Ms. Lavellan?”

“Call me Elena.” She corrected him.

“Alright. Shall we begin, Elena?”

Solas’ stomach did that ridiculous fluttering thing against his better judgment at the sight of the broad smile that broke across her freckled face when he said her name.

They walked side by side until they reached the car. Solas made himself comfortable in the passenger’s seat, adjusting the G.P.S. that came attached to the windshield of every training vehicle registered to the DMV, while Elena climbed in next to him. She was about to buckle her seat belt when she noticeably froze.

Solas looked over at her abrupt lack of motion.

She shot him an abashed look and held up her finger as if to say “one minute” before reopening the door.

Solas tried very hard not to notice the way her yellow sundress bunched up around her thighs as she slid her legs out of the car, but he couldn’t help but take in the constellation of freckles adorning the exposed skin as she pulled herself out.

Was there anywhere she wasn’t covered in freckles?

He quickly snapped out of that line of thinking before his mind went somewhere he knew it shouldn’t.

Elena darted back up the path, leaving Solas sitting alone, and confused.

 In more ways than one.

He watched Elena close in on the cabin. When she he got about five feet from the door an older woman with braided white hair came out to greet her, handing Elena a purse. Judging by the vallaslin that not only marked her face but arms and neck as well, this woman was the Lavellan Keeper.  Elena must be her first.

That explains the tenuous argument.

They exchanged a few words, the Keeper’s face twisted in mild anguish at whatever Elena had said to her before averting her gaze to Solas.

Did she disagree with Elena’s decision to learn how to drive? Was this what their argument was about?

Solas tried to keep the disdain from his eyes as he met the Keeper’s stare, but in all honesty, he wasn’t trying very hard.

Elena broke off the conversation and loped back towards the car, attempting to calm a few fly away curls that fell from her bun as she sped over.

“Sorry about that!” Elena said hopping into the driver’s seat, “I promise I’m really not this forgetful, like I said, stressful morning, my mind was somewhere else.”

 “Will you be able to focus on the task at hand?”

“Oh, absolutely! I’ve been looking forward to this all weekend!” She exclaimed while adjusting the mirrors and seat.

“Truly?” Solas asked her quizzically.

He couldn’t imagine why, he hadn’t been the most sympathetic to her cause the last time they spoke.

“Truly.  I’ll never pass up the chance to prove a stubborn man wrong…I jest, I jest!” She beamed a cheesy smile at him.

Her warm laughter softened the jab, but it wasn’t entirely an insult. He was stubborn, and did want to be proved wrong.

“We shall see.” He replied, keeping his smirk in check.

Solas stated that the purpose of this lesson was to get Elena more comfortable with driving a real car. They were not going to do anything to taxing during their first lesson, her acclimation was of top priority.

Solas asked her to take him along the same routes she practiced on with the tractor, visibly cringing as he said it.

She blushed and it was still just as adorable as he remembered.

Maybe it was the comfort of knowing familiar roads, or simply her determination, but Elena was doing considerably better this time. She was adjusting well to operating a car for someone who had never gotten behind the wheel before, save for her driving exam.

She asked a plethora of questions, which Solas answered with ease. Some of which he could tell she already knew the answers to, but still asked him anyway-- simply for his opinion. It was quite endearing.

 _And the way she_ _smiled at him_.

The conversation had a natural ebb and flow that Solas found himself enjoying much more than he should have, much more than should have been deemed enjoyable for discussing the mechanics of driving. It also was the longest conversation he had with a Dalish without it turning into an argument.

It was only a matter of time before the conversation took a more personal turn.

“How much of that disagreement did you hear?” She hedged, after a lull in their discussion on the difference between driving cars with automatic versus manual transmission, and Solas’ definitive preference of driving stick.

“Hm? Oh, barely anything.” Solas danced around the truth. He had heard enough.

“I apologize again….I know you already have a conflicted opinion of my people…I don’t want to give you another reason to dislike them.”

“It is irrelevant. Everyone argues.” Solas deflected.

 “Ah, well actually it is kind of relevant.” She paused, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter, “I’m leaving the reservation.”

Solas snapped his attention to her instead of the road. That was not what he was expecting.

She continued when he didn’t respond, “My Keeper clearly disapproves but isn’t going to stop me. It relates to you because I didn’t know how to mark that on the application--that I was moving so my address would change. I figured I’d just tell you in person after our lesson but… well there it is.”

“Any particular reason as to why?” He couldn’t stop himself from asking, he was already too invested in her. She was fascinating.

“Ha, too many to list, some far too personal. But mostly because I’ll be closer to my job.”

It suddenly dawned on him he had no idea how she was transporting herself from the reservation into the city.

“How have you been getting to work? Please tell me—“

“I carpool with another Dalish friend, who knows how to drive, as in real driving. She works in Haven but lives outside the city too. But she’s not with her Clan any more, she left it, well sort of.  It’s a long story.”

Elena took her hand off the steering wheel to gesture but Solas immediately guided it back in place.

She cast her bright eyes in his direction, studying the uneasy expression on his face.

“Relax _Hahren_ , at least I don’t take the tractor.” She playfully cracked, with another one of _those_ heart wrenching smiles.

“How kind. Where are you moving to?” Solas said, shifting the topic away from her hazardous driving attempts and other Dalish drivers.

“A small townhouse in the city, 800-something. I have the address written on a notecard for you in my purse.”

“Ah. The 800 block is nice. It is also walking distance from most necessities, and it’s quaint there, you will enjoy it.”

“Are you from the city?”

“No, I...” He stopped. The questions were becoming a bit too intimate for Solas’ tastes.

He didn’t originate from Haven or its surrounding areas at all; he had fled there nearly twent years ago after his home city, Arlathan, was quarantined by its CDC and the Thedas Health Organization.  It was a touchy subject he avoided at all costs.

 “I am merely knowledgeable in its layouts. I must be in order to be employed in the field I am in.” He said in an attempt to distract her.

It worked. Partially.

“How does someone even become a driving instructor? You must have one strong interest in teaching, or driving.”

She was mostly correct. But it was another subject he didn’t exactly want to delve into. The “driving instructor” was simply a mask, a front to hide his true source of income from racing. Although he had always enjoyed teaching.

“I have always expressed in interest in education and driving, albeit it was not mutually exclusive at first.”

“You held a different job before this?”

Again, she was unknowingly pressing into waters Solas was not willing to wade in.

“Yes, though it is unimportant now. Where did you say you worked?” He directed the questioning back on her.

“I never mentioned it? I feel like I talk about it all the time.” She chirped pleasantly.

“No, not specifically. I do not think you—Elena watch out!!” Solas cried.

It was then that a halla decided now was the best time to jump into the middle of the road.

Elena slammed on the breaks, sending both of them lurching forward as well as knocking her purse and the G.P.S. onto the floor.

The car came to a standstill a few inches from the animal, which hadn’t budged at all and was giving Solas what he surmised was the closest thing a Halla could get to a death stare.

It honked distressingly, stupidly in Solas’ opinion, at the car.

“Put the car in park.” Solas instructed.

Elena complied, still gazing at the halla.

Solas looked over at her to see how she was fairing and had to stifle a laugh. It would be entirely inappropriate in this situation, but the state of Elena’s curls coupled with her facial expression was not helping.

She rolled down the window to yell at it, “ _Fenedhis_ , Adahlena! Get off the road!”

It honked again, this time a bit angrily and then stomped off.

Solas was taken aback, for two reasons.

One, Halla apparently had names, and two, Elena cursed when she was exasperated. He learned something new every day.

She slowly turned to Solas, her eyes burning with unspoken apologies and nervousness.

“I am. So. Sorry.”

“These types of incidents happen Elena, especially in less populated areas such as your reservation. Take note. You were able to stop in time, no harm done.”

She detached her hands from the steering wheel and ran them through the curls that were now wildly escaping their confines. Getting them to behave was a lost battle at this point. She slumped back in her seat, letting her eyes dart to the floor.

“Oh, your G.P.S.! It fell!”

“I will get it.”

They both leaned in to reach for it.

A discernible thump reverberated in Solas skull as he hit his head in the same spot for the second time that day, yelping and recoiling at the impact.

Warm hands suddenly were cradling the sides of his face, pulling him towards Elena.

His breath hitched at her unexpected proximity; she was so close that Solas could have counted every freckle surrounding her lips as she grazed gentle fingers over his left temple, assessing for damage.

He flinched slightly

“It’s going to bruise.” She stated meekly, letting her eyes follow the trail her finger tips took down his cheekbone before making eye contact with him.

The intensity of their blue depths caught Solas even more off guard, captivating him. The tips of her ears poking through her loose curls turned pink as they held that gaze longer than they should have.

Solas reacted first, lifting Elena’s hands away from his face and clearing his throat. He felt himself flush in turn.

“I will manage.”

“The Keeper has salves that will ease the pain and help with the swelling. When we get back I’ll take you inside, we can--.”

“That will be quite alright. I have had much worse. Your help is not needed.”

Apparently that had been the wrong thing to say because her face fell dejectedly and she shrunk away. Solas internally chided himself on his tone. He should have been more considerate, and grateful. The Dalish are known for two things, their illustrious Ironbark lumber and their incredible medicine.

Some of the best healers and skilled doctors came from Dalish Clans, carrying with them ancient techniques and unfathomable knowledge. It would be stupid to turn free treatment, even for something as simple as a bruise. But still, Solas was a stubborn man.

“Though the offer is appreciated, Ms. Lavellan.” He amended.

“Please, it’s just Elena.” She said quietly, turning the car back on.

“Okay, just Elena.” He said smartly, offering a small smile of his own to lighten the crestfallen mood.

Her lips quirked the slightest bit as a small giggle escaped them, but she kept her focus on the road vigilant.

* * *

 

He said goodbye once they pulled up to Elena’s cabin, assuring that the same time next week still worked for him. He was to pick her up at her new place in the city starting next week. 

He glanced over the card gave him with her new address, her phone number was also there, with “ _Just in case_ _you get lost_ :)” written in neat handwriting beneath it. He couldn’t help but smile at the irony as stashed the card in his wallet and turned on his phone, stalling so he could watch her walk up the path.

She turned around once she reached the door, sending her dress rippling around her waist. A kind smile danced on her lips as she waved at him, disappearing behind the ironbark door a moment later.

His phone dinged softly twice, signifying he had a two new voicemails. The Bluetooth in his car connected with his phone instantaneously, allowing him to listen to the messages as he drove off the reservation.

The first message was from a number he didn’t recognize, but the voice gave her away.

“ _Dunno wot kind of game yer playin’ Wolf, but the next time you pull offa stunt like that, yer—“_

There sound of several thundering crashes and jars breaking echoed throughout the car, followed by a string of obscenities directed at the unseen fallen objects.

“ _Bloody shite, never stays put…Anyway, yer a right assbiscuit_. _Pfftb_.”

**_Message Erased_.**

Solas chuckled to himself as he deleted the voicemail, but saved the number under _Red Jenny_.

His persona as the Dread Wolf had a reputation. He was known for appearing and disappearing throughout the race, among other tricks, and it helped he knew every backstreet, alleyway, and side street in Haven. And most cities for that matter.

He had been a dick to Red Jenny  on Saturday; he had appeared out of thin air and cut her off dangerously, bullying her to veer down a side street and effectively forcing her to take an alternate route to the finish line. She had to make up for a two mile displacement, which is enough to cost a racer a finishing spot.  But she came back from it and placed third, as he knew she would.

He of course placed first. His reputation wasn’t only for dastardly racing maneuvers after all.

The next message was from Varric Tethras, the man whose underground entourage was in charge of setting up a majority of the races, or knew how to get people into them.

“ _Chuckles, fine racing as usual. You’ve got the crowd eating out of your hand with all those tricks and close calls you pull. I don’t know if it’s brains or balls you got, shit, maybe it’s both. I’ve sent your winnings to Flemeth like you asked. Oh and one more thing, well two more things actually, There are envelopes also waiting for you with her. You’ll definitely be interested. Let me know what you think when you get the chance.”_

**_Message Erased._ **

**_No New Messages. To disconnect press—_ **

He pressed the end call button on the visual display via the dashboard.

The “envelopes” were most likely invitations to two more races. It was unusual that he would receive two though. Usually races are scheduled one by one, as to avoid being detected by Haven’s Templars, the local law enforcement.

That must mean one of them was outside of Haven’s jurisdiction.

Varric was correct in his assumption.

He was definitely interested.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in getting an update out! I had to plan out where I wanted to take the fic (I had originally considered it to be a one shot, but then so many people liked it and asked for more so....:D) and also grad school is a thing so that eats up a lot of my time during the week! 
> 
> I hope you like this chapter! 
> 
> (also question so I can hammer out ratings....should there be smut or nah? :3 )


	3. Wisdom and Pride

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elven translation:
> 
> Sileal- Wisdom, knowledge

No sooner had Solas gotten through the door back at the DMV did he, quite literally, crash into Dorian, snapping him out of his reverie.

Dorian flinched and did a double take, recovering from the mild collision.

“Ah Solas, I was just looking for you! Here!” The temp said, shoving a drink that was cold and green into Solas’ hands.

“Ah, what?” Solas recovered, perplexed by the frozen mixture now in his possession.

Dorian’s demeanor shifted as he scrutinized Solas.

“Is the world ending?” Dorian mused, his mouth twisting in mirth, “Or is that an actual smile on your face?”

Solas felt the smile he hadn’t realized he was wearing abruptly fall.

“By Andraste, it is! A genuine smile. _In the morning_. On a _Monday_ , of all days!” Dorian tutted, taking a sip of the frozen-what appeared to be- coffee in his left hand. Solas watched as a realization dawned on his coworker’s face.

“Wait a minute…” Dorian began slyly, “You started seeing that Dalish girl for private lessons today… it wouldn’t have anything to do with that, now would it?”

“Absolutely not.” Solas denied, pursing his lips.

It absolutely did.

He just refused to acknowledge it.

“What is this?” He redirected Dorian’s attention, holding up the frozen concoction the Tevinter had given him.

“That is a celebratory Frappuccino, my friend!” Dorian beamed, effectively sidetracked.

“It is green.”

And a putrid shade at that.

“That’s because it’s a Green Tea frap! Thought you’d prefer that kind over coffee.”  Dorian explained.

“And what are we celebrating?” He glanced at his frap and tried to not look appalled.

“I scored a job interview with the Inquisition Memorial Medical Center!” Dorian practically sang.

Dorian had been trying avidly to find a job suitable with his degree since he first moved to Haven. But the unfortunate reality of ‘The Southern territories are prejudiced and terrified of Tevinter Medicine” ideology has been a hindrance in his search.

“That is phenomenal news.”

“Yes it’s just spectacular, isn’t it? I’m moving on from this dump and into the real world!”

Solas’ expression soured.

“Well you could too if you actually wanted to do something with your degree.”

“I’m still teaching.” Solas retorted.

“Teaching in a field completely unrelated. You teach whiny, ungrateful teenagers and the occasional enticing Dalish woman.” Dorian jested, bringing the conversation full circle.

Solas sighed. He had vaguely hinted to Dorian when the Tevinter began working at the DMV that he was also displaced from the field he truly wanted to be in. Dorian had just been so distraught at being unsuccessful that Solas couldn’t help but at least attempt to make Dorian’s work environment a little less of a pity party. And in doing so, sparked an unexpected friendship with the temp.

Pursuing a career in the field he desired would have revealed his past. Something Solas was content to keep locked away for the moment.

 “It is still teaching nonetheless. I appreciate the sentiment Dorian. Congratulations on your interview.” Solas inclined his head in thanks. It was a nice gesture, albeit unwarranted.

“Congrats on your first date.”   Dorian winked and began to saunter away.

“Dorian! It is not like--”

“OH! Before I forget!” Dorian spun around rather dramatically, cutting him off, “Flemeth told me to inform you that she wishes to see you in her office.”

Solas watched as Dorian quickly disappeared into the breakroom, most likely to brag to the other temps of his latest success and flaunt his possible career change. He knew Dorian was only teasing about Elena, but the implications still made him uneasy. He had to nip these fleeting feelings he had for her in the bud, for knew if he let them spiral out of his control it would only end one way.

And that was one life altering collision he wanted to avoid at all costs.

He made his way over to Flemeth’s office, knocking lightly on the door before opening it. His supervisor was sitting behind a dark mahogany desk, fingers steepled and elbows resting on the wooden surface. On the edge of the desk directly in front of her sat the envelopes. Solas’ fingers on his free hand twitched.

“Close the door behind you.” Flemeth said, anticipation burning in her eyes.

Solas closed the door quietly and strolled across the room, setting down his frap on the edge of her desk.

“What in the void is that?” She questioned.

“You don’t want to know.”

Solas grazed his fingers along the length of the polished wood before brushing them over the envelopes. The letter on top was from the Guild, recognizable by the dwarven crest in the corner. The rest of the white envelop was blank.

“The Guild is taking an unnecessary risk having yet another circuit so soon.” Solas noted, sliding the invitation in question aside, “Unless unique circumstances have arisen….”

 His eyes fell upon the second letter, a purple envelope with gold ink. Flemeth’s gaze followed.

“It seems you have been noticed.” The underlying excitement was unmistakable in her voice, “That insignia belongs to our Orlesian neighbors, it can only mean one thing.”

“Halamshiral.” Solas noted, still eyeing the gold print.

“What a prestigious honor to be invited to the time trials. Only the best will be in attendance.” She said, leaning back in her chair and opening a drawer.

Solas was itching to open the letter, but wanted to do so in his own time. He trusted Flemeth but this was one achievement he wanted to revel in alone, for the time being.

“Indeed.  I will need some to think.” He said, scooping both letters and tucking them into his coat.

Flemeth leaned forward again, and pushed something across the desk to him.

“The other portion of your winnings, the rest was put into your account. Do with it whatever you will.”

“Thank you.” He offered a polite smile before taking it and attempting to leave.

“You seem in better spirits than usual, Solas.” Flemeth commented, not letting him off the hook.

Solas had secretly hoped that Flemeth forgot what he was now assigned to do on Mondays. But it was a half-hearted hope; he knew she would never forget so there was no use in trying to avoid the subject. She would just drill him about it anyway.

 “Elena’s first lesson went well, better than I could have anticipated.”

Flemeth smiled.

“Perhaps I misjudged her.” Solas admitted.

“Perhaps you did. I could tell she would try harder to impress you.”

“I would not go so far to say that.”

“But you are impressed.”

He swallowed.

“She exceeded my expectations.”

Flemeth hummed contently, wearing an ‘I-told-you-so’ smirk that Solas wanted to wipe off her face.

“If that is all I will take my leave.” Solas stated, wanting to get out of her office to save his pride before she could comment on how his ears were turning pink. He snagged he green frap off her desk he nearly forgot about and left with Flemeth staring amusingly after him.

He looked again at the shockingly green drink in his hands. On the way back to his own desk, he spotted a garbage can in his perpheral vision. He switched directions and was about to dump it when the sound of the breakroom door opening and Dorian’s booming laugh reached his ears. Solas quickly backtracked to his seat before sticking the straw in his mouth and taking a large sip, pretending to have been drinking it the whole time.

It was much sweeter than he expected.

Tolerable, even.

 _Maybe_.

“Knew you’d like it.” Dorian muttered just loud enough for his voice to be heard, smiling smugly to himself as he resumed his position at the filing desk behind Solas.

Solas rolled his eyes. Ignoring Dorians comment, he took another sip and turned to write his report on Elena’s first lesson. He was not about to admit that the frap wasn’t completely terrible.

Suddenly the soft vibration of the phone in his pocked caught his attention before he managed to get two sentences typed out. He fished it out and looked at the screen, and smiled.

__**[Sileal]**  
Lunch as usual?  
9:42 AM 

_Yes. See you at 12._  
_9:43 AM_

* * *

 

Two hours later, Solas entered the Museum of Theodsian History. It was a short drive from the DMV, past Inquisition Memorial on the 600th block, a  prime location in the city. There was a delectable little café in the history museum that he and Sileal frequented for its traditional Elvhen dishes with a modern twist, inspired by uncommon ancient recipes. Their favorite.

He spotted her, languidly seated at one of the makeshift stone tables reading a textbook.

 Typical.

Her dark russet colored hair fell in an elegantly layered bob just so, and she made no attempt to hide the thick streaks of gray that were mixed in with the shades of reddish brown hair that framed her face. She was not a prideful person, by any means, and took no interest in keeping up such “appearances” as other women in their fifties would have.

A wave of self-consciousness ran through Solas as he approached.

If Dorian and Flemeth could easily pick up on his newly developing crush—yes it was very much a crush though he loathed to acknowledge it as such—he had absolutely _zero chance_ of hiding it from Sileal.

Sileal was one of oldest friends, if not his only friend, and only surviving contact from Arlathan before its quarantine; save for Flemeth but that was an entirely different relationship.

He had left everything behind, except for Sileal and his pride.

She could see right through him, through his mask, and layers like no one else could, and he appreciated her for that. She was down to earth and gentle with him when he needed to hear undesirable truths, but also offered the best advice and solutions on how to deal with the situations he always seemed to get himself into. Their relationship was complicated and complex, they always seemed to be aware of what the other was thinking and feeling, perfectly in tune. 

She would immediately hone in on his current predicament.

And his current predicament had him extremely confused. He had only just met Elena last week and yet here he was slightly hung up on her.  His mind wandered back to the conversation with the Dalish woman that morning once more.

As he got closer he noticed she had already ordered and had his favorite dish, the lemon and garlic roasted chicken wrap, waiting for him.

He slid into the seat in front of Sileal as her hazel eyes appraised him curiously.

“That is a bit heavy for a bit of light reading.” Solas noted, gesturing towards the “The Age of Elvhen Impressionism: Reimagining Masterpieces  of Arlathan” in her hands.

She arched a brow as she smiled.

“Who is she.”

Just. As. Expected.

“I do not have slightest inclination as to what you’re referring to.” Solas deflected, choosing to appear unconcerned and more interested in the wrap in front him of him than the question she posed, though he knew it was useless.

 “You’re smiling.”

 “No more than usual.”

“I know that look Solas, it’s rare.”

 “If I feel so inclined to smile, how do you know it simply is not because I am spending time with you?”

“Because I’ve been around you long enough to know you reserve your brooding expressions for me, not blushing smiles.” Her ancient eyes bored into him.

He felt face heat up even more.

Solas looked up from his food to see Sileal studying the skin around his left temple.

“Did you get that bruise falling for her?” She teased lightly.

Falling _into_ her, more like.

But that wasn’t the same thing.

“No.” He huffed, and bit into his wrap.

She laughed amicably and changed the subject, letting him wallow in his feelings until he was ready to bring it up again.

“If it makes you feel more at ease, I might have started seeing one of my co-workers.”

Solas stopped chewing.

“Please continue.”

Sileal then went off on a tangent about her romantic pursuits. She confided that man she had been sort of dating was a Professor of Draconology, in the Biology Department. It did help Solas feel less embarrassed about his situation, though they were not the same.

Just equally as unethical.

Well, his situation was probably more so, but it still made him feel better regardless.

After that, they fell into comfortable conversation about the new courses she was planning on teaching in the spring. The soft rumble and cadence of Sileal’s voice was soothing. At one point during her explanation of her course load, she reached into her bag and procured another textbook, this one on the art form of Ancient Fresco Painting for him.  Being best friends with one of the pioneering Elven Art Professors at the University of Orlais had it perks. The conversation casually turned back to his job at the DMV, and that inevitably led to racing.

Sileal had attended every race Solas participated in, never missing a single one.

“Oh, and by the way I wanted to congratulate you on your excellent race this past weekend! This one was so nail biting!” Sileal said after swallowing a bite of her own sandwich, “What you did to that Red Jenny girl, very clever.”

“She failed to check her blind spot and was caught off guard. I merely implemented a simple scare tactic. She made a common mistake, I saw the opportunity and seized it.” Solas elucidated, dabbing his mouth with the napkin on his lap before placing on his plate.

“Indeed. As if everything in racing can be explained away in such a simple manner. Now, what you did to the Champion!! You even had me worried there!”

“She was being reckless. I simply wanted to startle her into being more cautious. She will get herself killed driving like that. Damage to both cars was superficial.”

“Well it paid off, you won and further solidified your reputation, that’s for sure.”

Something in Sileal’s tone caused Solas to become uneasy.

“Sileal, you realize I only take calculated risks. Nothing that would endanger myself or other drivers unnecessarily.”

“I am aware. I just worry sometimes.” Despite what she said, her low voice was full of concern.

“Understandably so. If it causes too much distress, you do not have to attend.”

“Of course I’m going to come to your races,” she said finitely, “When is your next one?”

Solas reached into his coat and brought out the two invitations and his cell phone, setting the latter on the table. Sileal took the invites and perused them thoroughly.

“Wow these Guild races sure like their themes,” She scoffed before moving onto the Orlesian letter and gasping quietly.

“You’ve been invited to Halamshiral! Well not _legally_ , but still!” Sileal’s eyes lit up with excitement. “Time Trials! I’ll be a couple weeks into my semester at that date, but I will most definitely devise a plan to get in, I’ll be able to pull a favor at the University or something. I won’t miss this!”

Solas chuckled softly at his friend’s enthusiasm.

The waiter then interrupted their discussion with the check.

“Let me pay you back for all the lunches you purchase for me. I cannot have you dote on me every time we convene.” Solas said pulling out his wallet.

This unfortunately caused the card with Elena’s number on it to fall out on the table.

Solas stared at it for a second too long, and it did not escape Sileal’s notice.

“What do we have here!” Sileal snatched it off the table and held it out of Solas’ grasp, her lips twisting deviously, or what the closest thing to “devious” that was possible for Sileal to manage.

“ _Just in case you get lost, Elena_ ” She read out loud sweetly, “ _Elenaa_ , that’s adorable. You—getting lost?” Sileal’s eyes crinkled as she tried not to snicker.

“If you do not mind, I would kindly like that back please,” Solas made to grab at it, but Sileal yanked it away, “It needs to go in her file.”

Sileal shot him a disbelieving look.

“It needs to go in your phone.”

“What? Sileal, that’s unprofess—what are you—hey!”

Sileal began to enter Elena’s number into his phone that she had stolen from his side of the table.

“I am fully capable of adding her to my contacts by myself.”

“I know Lethallin, but sometimes you need a push.”

Solas scowled, glaring at her as she handed him his phone back.

Sileal stood, putting bills on the table and gestured for him to take a walk with her.

He obliged.

They strolled through the museum, falling into a pleasant silence. Occasionally commenting on exceptional pieces of art and admiring the relics of the past that were saved from Arlathan’s quarantine on display.

“Do you miss it?” Sileal inquired, her voice again dipping low and nostalgic when they stopped next to an Eluvian that was in the process of being restored.

“Of course.”

“I miss it too.” She sighed wistfully.

Solas looked at her and touched her shoulder. Sileal reached up and squeezed his hand.

A loud bustling of voices filled the hall.

 “Isn’t that the Dalish girl who’s dating the Champion? The one always squealing along the sidelines at all her races?” Sileal said distractedly, turning her attention towards a Dalish museum worker guiding a motley crew of tourists through the west wing.

 “Yes.”

Solas recognized the museum guide immediately. The little Dalish woman was infamously known for hopping the sidewalk blockers as the racers were finishing the race—an incredibly reckless thing to do considering a majority of the racers still technically had not stopped driving—and jump up into the Champions arms after she had exited her car. It was followed by an incredible amount of PDA that left most of the crowd sighing romantically or catcalling. It always seemed to take the Champion by surprise.

 “Maybe your Dalish can come cheer you on next time.” Sileal’s quip snapped him from the flashback.

“No.” he said, a little too quickly, retracting his hand from her shoulder.

But that didn’t stop the image of Elena cheering him on enthusiastically from the sidelines as he crossed the finish line. The more he thought about her smiling face—

“You’ve got that look again.” Sileal smirked, watching him closely.

_Fenedhis._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to have this up last weekend but grad school got a little crazy. and since it's the end of my semester everything is due and it is chaos. I'm going to aim to have the next update out next week but I can't promise it at the moment.
> 
> also I ship Hawke x Merrill like there's no tomorrow so that's a thing. 
> 
> more fluff to come next chapter! :D <3


	4. Sugar, Spice, and Things Not So Nice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> that's what little Elena is made of.
> 
> Chapter Title Runner-up: Hawkes, and Wolves, and Spiders, Oh My

Solas parallel parked in front of the pale blue townhouse situated at 807 North St., arriving way earlier than he intended. As he shut the engine off, he read the time on the digital display set within the console and cringed.

 _7:35_.

 A flood of embarrassment washed over him as he remembered the DMV car clocks were programmed to be five minutes fast, making him exactly thirty minutes too early.

He refused to believe that his early arrival had anything to do with his desire to make a particular Dalish woman’s face light up upon seeing him, and everything to do with a brief lapse in judgement.

He had simply over compensated for time, that was all.

Or at least that was what he told himself repeatedly as he stalled in his car, taking in the sight of her new home. The place had pastel yellow shutters that were flung open to let the early sunrise slip through the curtains inside. On each windowsill sat a flower bed, with a few purple and pink flowers just beginning to unfurl their delicate petals to the welcoming morning light. The flowers’ vines were twisting and curling their way up the siding of the house almost as if they were hugging it in a close embrace. It vaguely reminded Solas of the way Elena’s ringlets always seemed to escape their confines and crown around her face.

The whole view quaint and dainty, and he thought the home suited her perfectly.

He turned his attention back to his steering wheel, realizing he very well couldn’t camp out in front of her house for a half hour. He could make a few loops downtown to knock some of the minutes off the clock and return at much more acceptable time.

Yes, a relatively logical solution to his current situation.

He was just about to turn the key in the ignition when he cast one last furtive glance at her townhouse.

He froze.

A familiar freckled face had materialized at the window, having parted the curtains to stare at him through the panes with a slightly puzzled expression. He’d been caught.

Elena’s figure disappeared suddenly, leaving the curtains swishing shut in her wake.

He contemplated bolting and following through with his previous idea, but that would only lead to more carefully constructed half truthful explanations of why he ran and additional embarrassment that he would much rather avoid. He would have to confront her and offer an apology for his excessively sooner than expected arrival, and _then_ bolt away to wallow in shame.

Not an ideal plan, but one nonetheless.

He surrendered his keys into his pocket and got out of the car. Stemming the nerves that had knotted in his gut, he donned his reserved, formal mask and strode towards the house.

The plain white door swung open when he stepped up onto the porch.

“Well, you’re here awful early, _falon_. Couldn’t contain your curiosity about my new place?” She said playfully, a warm smile imperceptibly tugging at her lips as she leaned against the door frame.

He cursed himself silently as his heart danced in anticipation.

“My apologies, it takes considerably less time to reach your new residence than the reservation. I might have miscalculated how long it would take me to arrive.”

“ _Might have_?”, Elena’s lips spread wider as she teased him.

He could feel the tips of his ears heat up ever so slightly.

“Perhaps. I believe my clock is fast.”

Elena chuckled as _that_ smile finally broke out across her face. It was a beautiful sound and that caused his heart to fully betray him.

“Would you like to continue this conversation inside?” She opened the door wider for him.

“I would not impose myself upon you so unexpectedly, I will take a trip downtown and return at a more appropriate time.”

“Oh creators, no! Don’t leave! You’re already here!” Elena said, stepping back generously and gesturing for him to come in.

“I couldn’t possibly--I will take a short trip… around, it--“

She rolled her impossibly blue eyes at him before cutting him off. “Our ancestors will curse me from uthenera and sunder the veil if I don’t invite my own _lethallin_ in for breakfast.” She grabbed at his sleeve as he made to turn, “Please, I insist.”

Any last line of defense he had in place melted as he let her guide him into her foyer, keenly aware of how gingerly her fingers wound around his wrist. Once he heard the door click shut behind him, he took a moment to quickly survey his surroundings.

There were boxes taking up much the available space as far as he could see, littering the long hallway in front of him, floor space in the foyer where he was standing, and in the room immediately to his left.

Apparently she was still unpacking.

The foyer itself was airy and bright; the room had white walls with vine molding slinking along the base and where the wall met the ceiling. A tiny end table was set next the door with a bowl atop of it, filled with different sets of keys and some sort of ID badge. A flight of stairs was a few feet in front him, positioned slightly to the right, that led up to a landing he couldn’t past. The narrow hall led down further back into the apartment, branching off at different segments leading into different rooms. The one on his left appeared to be some sort of living room, a make shift library of sorts.

“Pardon the chaos, I’m still living out of boxes. But I swear I’m almost done unpacking!” Elena explained, walking into her reading room.

“It is to be expected, did you not just move yesterday?” He asked, toeing off his shoes and following her through the archway.

“Officially, but I actually showed up Saturday night.”

There was an inviting blue couch nestled by the window with a dark, wooden coffee table placed in front of it; several books were scattered across its glossy surface. Adjacent to the couch was a gas lit fireplace with an ornately decorated mantel settled between two bookcases, all the artwork surrounding the hearth seemed to be dedicated to Sylaise.

Naturally he was drawn to the tomes lining the shelves as Elena continued into the attached dining room to clear off more containers on the table’s surface, and making room to sit.

“Impressive collection.” Solas said as he meandered around some of the boxes to inspect the books she had managed to unpack and shelve.

“It’s my pride and joy, I managed to get my hands on quite a few rarities over the years.” Her voice echoed from somewhere behind him.

Solas trailed his fingers along the spines, his interest growing with each passing title.  The first row contained ancient history texts, most likely obtained from her Clan, and theoretical tomes on the culture of Elvhenan.

The second shelf contained books on modern medicine and its various applications. He recognized almost every single one. He noted there were several tomes on the subject of _Lyriosa Rouge_ , a highly infectious strand of bacteria that was responsible for the pandemic that quarantined Arlathan. The media naturally nicked named the ordeal “The Blight” during the height of the panic and it stuck ever since. Why would Elena have so many books about the Blight?

Solas shook his head, clearing his thoughts about epidemics, blights, and his home’s Quarantine. Dwelling on it only made him more homesick. He skipped the rest of the titles and moved on to the next row.

The third shelf was by far the most intriguing, and perused it with renewed interest.

 _The Summoner: Chronicles of the Necromancer, The Necromantic Ritual Book, The Book of Purifying Flames: A Necromancer’s Grimoire, The Healing Properties of Necromancy, A Healer’s Guide to Treating the Symptoms of Terminal Diseases_ … were some of the titles shelved there to name a few. Some of which were exceedingly rare, as she had stated.

“I see you have an appreciation for the ancient arts, it seems Necromancy in particular. Is there a reason why you chose to collect these texts on such an esoteric area of study?”

“Morbid curiosity. I wanted to learn more about it. Necromancy is fascinating! I’ve done a little research on some of the old techniques, and I was able to find modern applications for a few of them! My keeper sometimes utilizes them in her practice even!” Elena rambled as she moved into the kitchen, her voice rapidly becoming more enthusiastic as she continued her rant.

 _What an eclectic young woman_.

He was becoming increasingly more taken by this girl the more she surprised him.  It wasn’t making his grand plan of cutting off all emotional ties to her any easier.

And then his eyes zeroed in on the one book that was sorely out of place.

Stuck in at the end of the row, perhaps accidentally, amongst all of the dry texts and dissertations was a hard copy manuscript of _Swords and Shields_ by none other than his handler, Varric Tethras.

Solas was aware of his “friend’s” side job, but he didn’t realize it included writing the wildly infamous erotic fiction. It was an unofficial copy, meaning Varric must have given it to her personally.

A smirk pulled at his lips as he pulled it from the shelf and flipped open the front cover.

In an elegant scrawl the following message was written:

_For one of my most avid readers, Cupcake,_

_You’ll have to fight the Seeker for the next update, but this should hold you over until you set the date for your duel._

_Varric_

“Cupcake?” Solas read out loud interrupting whatever Elena was doing in the kitchen, causing her voice to halt abruptly.

She was at his side in seconds, ripping the novel out of his hands and slamming it shut. She tucked it behind her back out of his line of sight as her face turned a glorious crimson color.

“Uhm, it’s nothing, just a silly little nickname the author gave me…I met him once at a book signing…I’m a bit of fan, I might have gone overboard…he thought I was sweet…I can’t believe, out of all the books you pull _this one_!” She trailed off under his gaze, looking hopelessly embarrassed with one hand covering her cheek.

“Well, Master Tethras is hardly wrong, I am inclined to agree with him.”

Her eyes widened. “ _You_ think I’m sweet?”

Yes, he most certainly did. Especially when she made that face.

“I find your company enjoyable. Does that come as such a surprise that I do?”

He probably shouldn’t have admitted that.

Out loud.

 Or to her of all people, for that matter.

“A little bit,” She let out a breath of nervous laughter before continuing, “You don’t really seem the type to…”

He arched a brow, “To..?”

“To enjoy sweet things.”

“Quite the contrary. But I do not want to rely solely on his word for it. I would like to find out just how sweet you are for myself.” He said smoothly.

A soft “oh” passed through her parted lips as her face flushed three shades darker.

And he absolutely should not have admitted that…

…but a little harmless flirting couldn’t hurt in the long run, could it?

Not when she looked at him _like that_ because of it.

Elena whipped around and opened the nearest box, shoving the book inside and kicking it away out of his proximity before turning her bashful face back at him.

“So, breakfast? Yes?” She squeaked, not-so-suavely redirecting the conversation.

She ushered him into the next room and into a seat at her dining room table. Solas smiled to himself as he imagined there were previous installments she was eager to get him away from seeing, lurking on other shelves.

Not a moment after he sat down was a _very_ large mug set before him and filled with a piping hot liquid. His recognized it instantly and exhaled sharply.

 _Tea_.

Elena poured herself a cup, seemingly oblivious to his deflated mood, and placed the kettle on top of a knit cozy on the table.

“It’s locally grown black tea, infused with a hint of raspberry. It’s actually quite good if you add a little sugar to it too!” She enthusiastically pushed a small piece of chinaware towards him.

He was about to quietly decline the tea altogether, but when her expectant eyes found his he suddenly realized he would at least _attempt_ to force down any kind of tea she placed before him.

He took her offering cordially, and began to closely examine the artistry on the mug, stalling the inevitable. She picked up on his interest.

“It’s based off Elvhen designs. My Keeper makes them and gives them as gifts. I got a set from her when I left despite our….falling out.” Her voice faltered slightly, and then lapsed into silence.

“Hmm.”

“…Hmm what?” She hedged slowly.

“It is nothing.”

Just another thing the Dalish got wrong.

“No, it _is_ something, you’re scrutinizing the crafting. What’s wrong with it?” She asked earnestly.

“The handle…its form is incorrect, the traditional Elvhen design has more fluidity. The handle should have a smooth, arcing curve, not these hard angles. It is most likely an adaptation, heavily influenced by Tevinter aesthetics, no doubt after the quarantine. It is not an original Elvhen design.”

“Oh…” Her face fell as she began to study her own mug with just as much intensity as he had.

She remained quiet and withdrawn for a moment, tracing the angles. Her lips turned down into the slightest of grimaces, tugging uncomfortably at something in Solas’ chest as the frown continued to deepen.

He had spoken too harshly again.

Why was it so difficult for him to hold his tongue and just let the Dalish be…Dalish sometimes?

Especially over a mug.

 _Because they’re arrogant and prideful over more important aspects of their incorrect culture for all the wrong reasons_ , _the mug is just a reminder of the bigger picture_ , he thought to himself as he watched the Dalish woman’s expression twist into sudden determination before facing him again with a small smile.

_But Elena is different, she understands._

Perhaps he was being too judgmental. Perhaps there are more like her.

“If what you say is true, then someone is going to have to inform Keeper Deshanna she’s been making them wrong for years. She’ll change the design I’m sure…but she won’t be too pleased about it!”

Elena smiled broadly before yelling, “Nose goes!”, and promptly stuck her pointer finger on tip of her crooked nose that looked like it had been broken once. Maybe twice.

Solas just stared at her bewildered and unmoving.

Save for his heart that was now beating erratically at her unprompted adorkableness.

Her face slowly fell as she realized he had no idea what was going on and missed the joke. She sucked in a breath and retracted her finger from her nose, clenching her hand into a fist.

“Right. Dalish thing,” She let a sheepish grin fall over her face before muttering “Sorry” under her breath.

“So, what is for breakfast then Elena?” Solas asked politely, hiding the smile that threatened to break across his face at her cute display.

He scooped two more heaping spoons of sugar into his tea while she broke eye contact with him to glance back at the kitchen. Maybe three would be enough to make the tea easier to choke down, since he undoubtedly had to drink it now out of courtesy after making an ass of himself.

“I was planning on making pancakes, I have the griddle ready to go and the ingredients for the batter set out,” She gestured towards the kitchen counter before turning back to him, resting her elbow on the table and cupping her chin in the palm of her hand, “I also have homemade maple syrup that I got as a going away present from one of my clanmates. It’s absolutely delectable, you have to drown your pancakes in it, or you’re not eating them right.” She laughed blithely.

Oh, he most certainly would. No question about that.

“I cannot imagine any other way to eat pancakes than to immerse them entirely.” He returned her lighthearted banter, and felt himself shift a little closer.

A coy smile broke across her lips, drawing Solas’ attention to the way they so beautifully parted before she leaned into him, “Maybe you really do have a thing for sweets, _Solas_.”

A subtle shiver ran along the length of his spine at the sound her lilting his name. He definitely should not be enjoying the way her voice accentuated it this much.

But then her expression wavered, her gaze became more intense despite the softness of her smile, “Or maybe you’re actually sweet yourself underneath it all. It’s nice to know there’s actually a real person hiding behind that austere veneer.”

His mask had cracked, and she had sensed it.

“I—“ He began, but was effectively silenced by Elena’s front door bursting open.

Two figures loudly paraded their way into the foyer, and both he and Elena split apart as if shocked. Solas hadn’t realized how closely they had been shifted towards each other until he had to immediately reposition himself away from her.

“ _Elennaaaa!_ We’ve brought honey bradh!!”

The sing song voice belonged to none other than the overly excited fangirl-Dalish Tour Guide Solas had seen last week during his lunch with Sileal.

Elena’s head fell into her hands at the commotion unfolding.

“I’m going to regret giving her a key, aren’t I?” Elena muttered rhetorically to herself before casting Solas an ‘ _I’m very sorry for what’s about to happen_ ’ look through her fingers.

The Dalish woman in question bounded into the dining room holding a tray of loaf like pastries out in front of her proudly. It only took her two seconds for her to notice Solas sitting at table on Elena’s right and her jaw fell open in surprise.

“These look absolutely delicious Merrill, _ma serannas.”_ Elena sighed gently and pushed her seat back to stand, “But I wasn’t expecting you and Hawke until tomorrow...”

“Oo, you already have company!” Merrill exclaimed, her eyes darting between the two of their faces while still holding out the tray of pastries at them expectantly. “You didn’t tell me you had a boyfriend! Are we interrupting something?!”

Solas choked.

“What!? Oh no! No, no no! He’s definitely not. Uhm, he’s my new _Hahren_ , sort of…” Elena scrambled for words as she grabbed at the tray in her friend’s hands, the tips of her ears burning bright red again as she looked at everything but him.

Hahren was worse.

He was going to have to get her to stop calling him that.

“I told you the plans we made were for _Tuesday_.” The woman named Hawke said cutting off as she sauntered into the room with a tray of her own to stand beside Merrill.

Well, tower over Merrill would be a more accurate description considering she was nearly a foot taller than her elven girlfriend.

“Ah, Merrill, Valora, this is Solas. Solas, these are my good friends, Merrill Sabrae and Valora Hawke.” Elena supplied, finally stealing a glance in his direction, “Merrill is the one I told you about who drives me to work.”

Solas recognized Hawke immediately as they met each other’s gaze, his stormy blue eyes narrowing to lock in with her blazing amber. A heavy weight settled in his chest as he watched her sharp features twist from confusion into mild antipathy as she recognized him too. From the shock of her short, jet black hair, swaggering gait and ridiculously tall figure she was impossible not to recognize, although he knew her by her alias.

 _The Champion_.

Who just happened to be one of his biggest rivals.

“A pleasure to meet you both.” He said, raising the cup of tea up to his mouth despite it being too hot to consume any more than a sip.

Memories of last weekend’s race and what he had done to Hawke’s car abruptly flashed through Solas’ mind as he watched her glare heat up the longer they stared at each other.

This could potentially be a problem.

A major one, judging by the look she was giving him.

“Elena, where can I put this?” Hawke asked casually without breaking eye contact with Solas, shaking her tray of pastries.  

“Bring it into the kitchen I’ll take it from there. I have to clean up the pancake prep. You’ll just have to excuse the clutter. I still haven’t quite moved out of all the boxes yet.” Elena answered, whipping around to disappear into the kitchen herself.

Hawke broke the contest between the two of them and glided around the table, forcibly bumping into Solas’ chair as she passed. He didn’t manage to pull the mug away from himself in time and the scalding hot tea inside it sloshed around and splashed onto his chest. A loud gasp escaped his lips as the hot liquid burned through his collared shirt.

“Oh, forgive me. _I forgot to check my blind spot_.” She hissed at him before following where Elena had gone into the kitchen.

“I’ve got napkins!”

Merrill scurried over with a fistful of decorated paper towels and began to wipe up the spill.

“What happened?!” Elena popped back into view with concern dusting over her features.

“I had the misfortune of spilling my tea, it is nothing to concern yourself over.” Solas said looking down at the mark spreading across his chest, grabbing a napkin to dab at his shirt.

Elena was upon him in seconds. He barely had time to register that she had managed to get the first few buttons of his shirt undone and shifted away from him before her slender fingers were grazing over the red blotched area by his collarbone, checking for burns. His pulse jump started as observed her appraising the surface of his skin. He was almost sure she could feel it thrumming beneath her exploring finger tips.

“No long lasting damage, just some superficial irritation. You’ll be alright.” She said gently.

When their eyes met her hand stopped moving beneath his shirt, hovering right above his traitorous heart.

“Good to hear the damage is just… _superficial_.” Hawke drawled from where she had seated herself across the table, watching Elena interact with him closely over her own cup of tea.

Elena withdrew her hands and averted her eyes.

“I’ll go finish in the kitchen then, Mere can you help me?”

Merrill scooped up the dirty napkins and followed Elena out of the room.

“Small world, isn’t it wolf?” Hawke began after they were out of earshot.

“So it would seem.”        

She leaned in across the table, “Anything you’d like to say to me? Perhaps an apology for what you did last week?”

Solas narrowed his eyes. “Dirthara-ma.”

Hawke seemed to understand the connotation of the curse because she lunged across the table and made a pass at his mug, which was still directly in front of his face. Luckily he had anticipated her strike, in one swift movement he pushed his chair back and stood up, effectively placing him out of range, mimicking Hawke’s stance.

The sudden sound of laughter from the kitchen made them both pause. Elena and Merrill were returning with plates of honey bradh and fresh fruit.

Solas and Hawke immediately sat back down, taking sips of their tea and pretending like nothing had transpired though silently still sizing each other up.

Elena placed a very appealing plate in front him and settled in on his right, while Merrill seated herself on Hawke’s left.

“If you’re not dating Elena, how do you know her?” Merrill asked curiously, popping a raspberry into her mouth.

 “Elena enrolled in a Driver’s Training course at the DMV where I work. I am her driving instructor.”

Solas heard Hawke splutter into a fit of laughter from behind her mug, laughter that quickly became real coughs as she choked on her tea.

“He’s the one I told you about who’s been giving me lessons the past few weeks.” Elena added.

 “ _You_!?” Hawke said incredulously between gasps.

“Yes. I am overseeing her training.”

“That’s rich,” She said, regaining her voice, “She has no idea—“

Solas kicked her underneath the table.

The irony of The Dread Wolf teaching a Dalish Elf was not lost on him, but he didn’t need Hawke to point that out.

“I have no idea about what?” Elena looked between the two of them, the epitome of sincere innocence.

“Your instructor has a bit of reputation for being a jerk.” Hawke explained bluntly.

“Oh, I already figured that out.” Elena nudged him playfully before taking a bit of her honey bradh, “I take it you two know each other?”

Solas and Hawke glared at one another again.

“You could say we’ve been around the track a few times.” Hawke replied cheekily, earning her another swift kick under the table from Solas.

“That’s one way of putting it.” Merrill muttered quietly to no one in particular before taking her own bite of honey bradh.

“Did he give you your license?” Elena asked.

“No, I purposely avoided him when I tested, I wanted to pass my exam.”

Elena laughed lightheartedly, “He failed me my first time, though I deserved it. I expect I would have failed regardless of who my examiner was. I was…pretty damn terrible. But I’m doing better now!”

“You are improving…albeit at your own pace.”

“Hey, at least I don’t freeze in the middle of the road anymore!” Elena exclaimed, sticking her tongue out at him.

“Or consort with tractors.” He teased.

_Ah, there was the blush._

“Hawke, how is your car by the way?” Elena said hastily swallowing and changing the subject, “Merrill told me you got sideswiped a little while back?”

_This just had to keep getting brought back up._

Hawke’s eyes flared, “Oh, yeah. Some _asshole_ thought it would be a good idea to ‘teach me a lesson’.” Hawke said, using air quotes for emphasis. “The Dread wolf can go take himself next time.” She said without thinking, looking directly at Solas.

Everyone stilled, including Hawke. She knew she had gone too far.

“The Dread Wolf?” Elena’s hand holding her piece of honey bradh in it frozen in mid-air on its way to her mouth.

“I mean, Dread Wolf take him. In the future. In general.” Hawke said backtracking, and failing.

“If Fen’Harel is involved it means you were racing when it happened, doesn’t it.”

It wasn’t a question.

Solas felt his body tense at her tone of voice.

“I never explicitly said that.” Hawke tried.

“ _Valora_!”

“Fine. Yes, I was racing. And yes, he hit me. But it could barely count as an accident Elena, nothing really happened, my car was fixed.”

“It’s not the car I’m worried about, and you know that. I wish I could give that wolf a piece of my mind.”

Little did she know, she actually was.

“She really was fine Elena and the race was rather mild this time, that’s why I left out that part when I told you. I didn’t want to make you worry.” Merrill added softly.

Mild wasn’t the word he would have used, but he could tell Merrill was downplaying it for Elena’s sake.

She shot a dirty look at Merrill. “You’re just as guilty. You go to the races. For fun.”

Merrill fidgeted with her scarf, “They’re exciting.”

Elena rolled her eyes and stood from the table, collecting everyone’s plates in a huff, “And dangerous. I don’t understand how you people enjoy them so much. You must feel the same way about this considering your line of work, don’t you Solas?”

She turned her big, angry blue eyes expectantly at him.

He swallowed, not saying anything and continued to stare at Elena as a giant knot of dread anchored itself into his stomach.

He felt Hawke kick him this time.

“I can see the appeal that racing offers to certain types of people but yes it is incredibly dangerous, and those involved take immense risks.” Solas recovered smoothly.

“It’s foolish, not to mention it’s also illegal.” Elena said, not quite satisfied with his answer.

“If you’d actually come to them when we invite you, you might find out you enjoy them.” Hawke interjected, surprisingly sparing Solas from any further floundering.

The warmth that usually was found in Elena’s eyes dissipated and was replaced with a pain and ire.

“Do you want me to have a heart attack? I’ll be sick to my stomach the entire time, praying that you don’t crash as you speed through the streets like reckless idiots, competing for some overrated glory.” Elena countered shortly, shaking her head and causing her curls to quake angrily before shifting her gaze to Merrill and adding quietly, “You _know_ why I can’t do it. Please stop asking.”

With that she turned on the spot heading directly for the kitchen, leaving them all in an awkward silence.

That could not have gone worse if he had tried.

Well, actually it could have but he was not about to entertain that line of thought.

He should have pieced together that her anxiety over driving would carry over to racing tenfold. He was foolish for even entertaining the idea of her wanting to cheer him on, even if it was just a passing fantasy.

The three of them sat there in uncomfortably, not sure what do with themselves. Solas stirred his barely touched tea with a spoon and checked his watch. Merrill continued to toy with the fringes of her scarf while Hawke ran her hands over her face and faintly mumbled “ _fuck_ ”.

He had ten minutes to kill before Elena’s lesson was supposed to start and was desperate to not dwell on this any longer.

Solas cleared his throat, opting to attempt to make conversation.

“So you now are aware of my relations with Elena. Might I inquire how you met her?”

“Elena and I met at the last Arlathven two years ago. At the time, we had both been firsts and wound up sitting next to one another during one of the meetings. We sort of goofed off the whole time, becoming fast friends. Keepers weren’t exactly thrilled with us.” Merrill eagerly supplied, grateful for the break in tension.

“We kept in touch after that and visited each other. A lot. She was a great friend and helped me transition when I left my clan.” Merrill reached over to pull Hawke’s hand away from her face and twine their fingers together. “I’m much happier now that I’ve found where I belonged. I think Elena will be too now that she’s left hers as well.”

“I met Elena through Merrill.”

“Obviously.” Solas couldn’t help but quip.

Hawke grumbled something under her breath and Merrill elbowed her jokingly.

“Does Elena work with you Merrill?”

“Oh no! I work at the Thedosian History Museum as a Historian. I’m currently supervising the restoration of an Eluvian that was donated to our Elven exhibit a few months ago. Elena works down the block at the—“

A high pitched scream cut through their conversation.

Solas was out of his seat with his mug in seconds, bursting into the kitchen with Hawke and Merrill hot on his heels.

Elena had pushed herself as far into the corner of the kitchen as she possibly could, pointing to something very large and very hairy scurrying across the hardwood floor to where several piles of empty boxes lay haphazardly unattended to.  

Merrill’s eyes widened in wonder as she watched it scuttle towards the mountain of cardboard. “It’s a wolf spider! I’m sure of it! It probably came in stowed away in one of those boxes from your Rez.”

“I don’t care what kind of spider it is, will someone please just Get. Rid. Of. It.” Elena was nearly in tears.

“I’ll kill it.” Hawke offered, attempting to step around Solas before he thrust out an arm to stop her.

“Do not kill it, it is not causing anyone direct harm. It is displaced from its home and trying to survive. It is more afraid of us than we are of it.” Solas said, defending the creature.

“Tell that to Elena.” Hawke nodded in the direction where Elena was holed up by the sink, looking petrified still fighting back tears.

“I will release it outside, far away from here.” Solas explained, releasing Hawke as he approached Elena, discreetly dumping the rest of his tea down the drain while giving her a small, reassuring smile.

She mirrored it, and his heart ached a little.

“Oh, so you’re an animal rights activist all of a sudden? What about Hawks, huh? I heard they’re being ruthlessly hunted by wolves. Aren’t they worthy of your gracious protection?” Hawke grumbled sarcastically, just loud enough for him to hear as she sifted through the pile.

Solas groaned internally and walked over to join her.

“Just as long as you get rid of it.” Elena called to him, her voice wavering slightly. “I don’t. like. Bugs.”

“Well actually that’s a common misconception.” Merrill piped up from behind a box, “Wolf Spiders are arachnids, which technically aren’t insects—“

Hawke pulled a box off the top of the stack, unearthing Merrill in the process.

“Mere, I love you, but now is not the time.” Hawke said, reaching out and touching Merrill’s face tenderly before turning back to look for the missing spider.

“Right. Can we keep it instead of releasing it though?”

Solas and Hawke paused their search to give Merrill a disbelieving look.

“We already have a mabari, the Halla we stole back from your Clan, and that deep stalker you dragged in three weeks ago that you promised you would get rid of.”

“A deep stalker, really?”

“Shut it, Wolf.” Hawke whispered bitterly.

“And somehow I am the animal activist.”

“There it is!” Merrill pointed at a box far to Solas’ left.

He lunged, knocking the box out of the way and securing his now emptied mug overtop of the large spider, protecting it from Hawke’s boot that came crashing down on his knuckles instead.

“I have it secured.” He said through gritted teeth, “You may remove your boot now.”

Merrill yanked Hawke away and handed Solas a thin plate to slip beneath the mug. Once the plate was in place, he carefully lifted the impromptu prison and carried the spider through the dining room, into the foyer and out of the house. He paused near a neighboring bush and tossed it at the base of the hedge. He watched it scuttle away from him and out of sight. He let out a sigh and turned to face Elena’s townhouse once more.

Elena was waiting for him in the doorway as he made his way up the porch steps again. She took the mug and plate from him, nimbly stashing them on the end table inside and promptly turned her attention to his hands.

“Merrill said Hawke stomped on your fingers on purpose, and that I should look at them.” Elena insisted, delicately turning over his hands in her own.

“Lucky for the spider my hands arrived there first.”

“Thank you for rescuing me. I might have a fear of spiders but I am glad it was saved and not squished.” Her lips twisted into a timid smile as she continued her study.

“It was nothing.”

There were a couple light scratches where Hawke’s boot had broken the surface of his skin but not worth fussing over. Although he couldn’t deny the pleasant sensation of Elena’s soft fingers grazing skin, and decided he could let her fuss for as long as she wanted.

“Are you an artist?” Elena asked as she brushed her thumb over the surface of his palm.

Solas thought back to all of the pieces he collaborated on with Sileal when they lived in Arlathan. They had created quite a few masterpieces. But since they fled, he hadn’t gotten back into.

“I used to paint, though I have not created anything for some time. Why do you ask?”

 “You have lovely hands, I just assumed all artists do…creators that sounded so odd, I’m sorry.” She flustered and made to retract her hands from his grasp but he caught them before she could.

She thought his hands were lovely.

He didn’t know why that made him happy, but it did.

She stared with wide eyes as he began to examine hers.

They were just as soft as he remembered the first time he touched them, when they had first met. Her nails were painted a very light pink; the very shade her cheeks were slowly becoming the longer he admired her dainty fingers. Intricate patterns of freckles clustered around her knuckles and faded out across the backs of her hands and up the exposed skin of her forearms to vanish beneath the rolled up sleeves of her sweater. He traced lines between the dots, connecting some of them together in an idle design.

Against his better judgement, he acted on the impulse to lace his fingers through hers.

They were lovely too.

“Under the same logic, you must be an artist as well.”

“I wouldn’t call myself one but I …enjoy making mosaics for fun…. when I can spare some time.” She said, distractedly.

He stole a glance at her face to find her gazing up at him, leaning in much closer than he expected.

When had they gravitated towards each other like this?

The seed of guilt twisted in his gut at the innocently fond expression she was giving him when he recalled what Hawke had started to say during breakfast.

_She has no idea who you are. She wouldn’t be looking at you that way if she knew the truth._

Hawke and Merrill’s figures appeared in his line of sight and he dropped Elena’s hands abruptly, clasping his own firmly behind his back and straightening his posture. He watched as Elena’s face melted from admiration to confusion at his rapid withdrawal. Her hands were even still hovering in the air.

“I believe we will be getting a late start on your lesson. Unless you would like to reschedule it for later this week at this point. You do have company.” He motioned towards the two women watching their interaction.

“Oh don’t mind us, we’re leaving! We weren’t even supposed to be here today.” Merrill declared, sneaking past Elena and giving her a quick peck on the cheek to say goodbye.

“I’ll walk you out!”

Elena offered, excusing herself away from him to fish her keys out of the bowl by the door and grab her purse off the railing following Merrill outside, leaving Hawke in the foyer with Solas.

Suddenly, Hawke gripped him by the front of his shirt.

“You try and pull anything with Elena, and I swear I’ll be wearing a wolf pelt as a trophy during future races.”

“Are you threatening me, Champion?” Solas questioned coolly.

Hawke pulled him closer, “Warning. I’m warning you. Don’t break her heart.”

“What? I have no intentions of—“

“I’ve seen the way she looks at you, the way the two of you looked at each other just now.” She relaxed her grip on him, “I’ll keep your identity a secret for the time being because I don’t want to be the one to out you to her. You owe her that much.” She shoved him away and was about to turn towards the door when she stopped and looked back at him.

“Rivalry aside, what do you think of the guild making us race in the ruins of that old temple, with motorcycles of all things this Friday? It’s so…strange.”

“I heard a rumor Red Jenny blackmailed the Guild after she found out they have been repeatedly bailing out on their promise to donate her winnings to the Denerim Orphanage, opting to pocket her portion instead.”

It wasn’t actually a rumor, it was fact. Varric filled Solas in when he had returned his call to accept his invitations.

“You know, that doesn’t surprise me.”

“Which part, the blackmail or the Guild’s behavior?”

“Both.” Hawke rolled her eyes and then added hastily before storming out, “Rivalry returned. May the best racer win.”

Once she was out of range, Solas smirked to himself.

“I intend to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am going to pull a page from Elena's book and apologize profusely for the long ass delay in updating. To make up for it, this chapter was little bit longer than usual. (an extra 3,000 words longer.)
> 
> Valora is a red!Hawke with some purple tendencies :3
> 
> also, what is flirty dialogue. how flirt?? how to words??
> 
> help a birb out.
> 
> ps they gonna kiss in the near future. maybe.


	5. Accidents Happen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I commissioned the wonderful [destinyapostasy](http://destinyapostasy.tumblr.com/) to draw Elena! (and my canon Inquisitor Sulenera) If you want to see how I picture her, you can check her out [here](http://destinyapostasy.tumblr.com/post/138682286642/two-portraits-for-my-bae-littleblue-eyedbird)!
> 
> Disclaimer for those who don't like cliff hangers: this chapter ends in a cliff hanger! (sort of haha)

“Solas, are you coming?” Elena’s voice rang out from the street.

He locked her front door behind him and strode down the stone pathway leading from her house to the curb where she was waiting. He watched as Elena stood on her toes and waved enthusiastically to Hawke and Merrill as they took off down the street and out of sight. When he was just about a foot away she spun around to face him.

“Ready?” She trilled, with one hand on her hip and the other on the door handle.

The passenger’s side door, he noted.

“Are you?”

He held out the car keys in front of her.

She looked at him quizzically before taking her hand off her hip and pointing to the keys and then back at herself. Twice. “Me?”

“We are beginning _your_ lesson Elena, it would make sense for the keys to be your possession since _you_ will be the one operating the vehicle.” He said, trying to keep his mirth in check.

She looked frantic for a second, but allowed him to deposit the keys into her palm, her fingers clamping down over them.

She gulped before stuttering, “B-but you parallel p-parked.”

“And?”

“Between two cars...” Her eyes darted between him and the car, “I…I don’t trust myself to pull out without hitting something…or drive in the city.”

Not only had her face blanched but her knuckles as well from gripping the keys so tight.

Perhaps it was a bit too soon for Elena to try that.

Her driving had been improving; despite her tendency to use the breaks somewhat excessively and occasionally hesitate before merging into heavy traffic—but those mistakes would resolve themselves with more exposure behind the wheel. She would have to eventually have to practice within the streets of Haven, considering that is where she would be driving the most frequently.

But perhaps today was not that day.

“Hm, I propose this,” He reached back for the keys still in Elena’s death grip, gently prying her fingers off them with some difficulty, “I will get us out of the spot and out of the city, letting you assume control of the vehicle in the suburbs. Does that sound agreeable?”

She hesitated, but gave a tiny nod, curls bouncing lightly. “Yes. I trust your judgement.”

Her blind statement of faith in him twisted that slowly growing tendril of guilt in his gut. She trusted him but didn’t even truly _know_ him.

A little bit of color returned to her face as her brows and lips pursed, a spark of determination burned in her eyes despite the slight tremor in her fingers as she opened the passenger door and climbed into the car.

“Someday, I promise I’ll be able to drive through the city.” She asserted confidently, bright eyes finding his once they both had buckled in. There was something in her tone that convinced him she really would.

 “I believe you.” He returned in kind.

He demonstrated—with ease—how to safely maneuver the car out of a parallel parking spot, showing how to turn the wheel just so and pointing out when to reverse and how to pull out. Naturally he got it on his first try and she sort of just stared at him in disbelief. He assured her she would get the chance to practice this skill a little further along in her lessons.

She did not look thrilled at the prospect.

As promised, he drove them safely out of Haven and into the surrounding neighborhood that had significantly less traffic flow, while still offering a moderate challenge for a beginning driver. They switched seats at an empty gas station.

“Do not hold the steering wheel so tightly.” He gestured to the vice grip she was currently giving it, “Remember, it is important to have a relaxed posture, allowing yourself to tense up will directly interfere with your ability to drive.”

She relaxed her fingers marginally.

“Your arms too Elena, do not lock your elbows.”

He reached out as if to touch her, but when they made eye contact he thought better of it and retracted the gesture. He had already had done that more than was necessary today.

 _Boundaries_ , he reminded himself.

Elena took a deep breath and unlocked her arms, averting her eyes back to the steering wheel.

“Good. Now when pulling out, be cognizant of drivers coming around this bend. They most likely will be taking liberties with the speed limit, expecting a green light at the intersection.”

She pulled out and got through the intersection with little to no problems, and the rest of her lesson followed the suit. She continued to surprise him as she took all of his redirections in stride, not once arguing or snapping at him. He adored—yes _adored_ damn it—the way her face lit up when he gave her praise over not over using the breaks when approaching red lights.

Her confidence grew through each successful turn and merge she made, tension easing out of her body in waves. Solas couldn’t help but feed off her happy mood and the lighthearted exchange that seemed to flow naturally between them. For a moment, the guilt churning inside him subsided and he was just Solas and she was just Elena, and they were just driving. The route he took her on was easy enough and traffic was thankfully light for a Monday morning. They switched drivers again at the same gas station when it was nearing the end of their lesson time.

“How do you feel about your driving today Elena?” Solas inquired, coming to a stop at the intersection two blocks away from her place. The light turned green almost immediately.

“I feel much better, especial—“ Her voice twisted into a small cry of terror; one hand clutching at her seatbelt and the other digging into Solas’ bicep as he slammed on the breaks.

Someone had decided this was the best time to run a red light. Solas thanked his innate ability to have a sixth sense when it came to these types of incidents, and reacted quickly. He was able to break in time and avoid getting t-boned. Solas was also grateful he decided to get behind the wheel three blocks back, instead of having Elena drive herself home—an idea which he had entertained briefly. But given Elena’s track record…he was relieved he dismissed the notion.

“Did. You. See. That.” She emphasized each word with a marked staccato, nails like claws still latched on his arm.

 “Yes, I did.” He said, prying his arm out of Elena’s vice grip before he resumed driving through the intersection.

_Now I know how the steering wheel feels._

 He continued calmly, trying to reinforce the lesson that could be taken from this near crash without scaring her, “This is an example of idiocrasy you will face when driving on your own. Accidents happen. It is always best to be a defensive driver, aggressive drivers are unavoidable in some circumstances--there are some people who tend to be— “

“Jackasses.” She finished for him fiercely, still holding on to her seat belt like a lifeline.

Solas paused his thought, taking in Elena’s angry glare before he snorted.

“I was going to give a more…eloquent version of that sentiment, but yes, ‘ _Jackass_ ’ seems to be an appropriate insult.”

Elena gawked at him for a moment and then laughed, a light chirping sound that sent his heart fluttering as he pulled up in front of her house.

“What is so funny?”

“It sounds silly when you say it.”

“Pardon?” He asked slightly taken aback, while turning the engine off.

“Hearing you curse. You’re always _so_ proper, _so_ reserved. To hear you be so informal…” She released another bit of breathless laughter.

“I can be informal when I want to or when it is warranted.” He huffed slightly.

He was not always so pretentious that...wait.

Yes, he was.

“I’d like to see more of that side of you.” She said gently as her laughter subsided, holding his gaze.

He felt the blood rush to his face.

 “I will admit, you see more than most. Around you, I am not as…” He trailed off as he searched for a better word than pretentious.

“Uptight?” She offered with a playful smirk.

He furrowed his brows but then admittedly sighed. “You are not wrong.”

They shared a brief chuckle again before lapsing into a lull in their conversation. No one made any move to get out of the car.

“Solas….” She spoke up after a moment, and his gaze was drawn to the way her bottom lip was caught between her teeth, indecision flashing across her face. When he looked up from her mouth and met her eyes, she bashfully averted them to the hands she was wringing in her lap.

Solas waited—he could practically hear his heart beat growing steadily louder in his ears as the unnerving silence stretched on within the car.

 Abruptly, she sucked in a deep breath and blurted, “Would you like to go on a date with me sometime?”

 _More than anything,_ he immediately thought to himself.

He swallowed thickly, the response he wanted to give stuck in his throat as his stomach tied itself in knots, remembering Hawke’s warning.

 _But I can’t_.

After failing to get it out, and sitting there staring at her, most likely with jaw dropped for half a beat too long, she thrust up her hands defensively.

 “It doesn’t have to be a _date_ -date! You know,” She twirled a loose curl around her finger as she panicked, “Maybe just a casual coffee date or lunch at a café! Or we can skip on food idea, that seems too formal, and find a more private setting to simply enjoy each other’s company. Preferably not in your car—not that I’m opposed to doing it in your car! It’s a nice car— “

Solas made a sort of strangled noise, a mix of a snort and a gasp. He passed it off as a cough and cleared his throat, feeling the tips of his hears heat up at her oblivious innuendo.

Her eyes went wide as her implication sunk in.

“I mean--Uhm, hold on---that came out waaay more suggestive than I intended, I _swear_ I didn’t mean to!! She exclaimed, hands gesturing frantically again.

He _still_ hadn’t said anything.

 “And it really doesn’t have to be a ‘ _date_ ’.” She rushed, covering her face with her right hand and looked down, freckled cheeks flaming.

He heard her faintly mumble “ _shit_ ” under her breath.

This was probably the most adorable attempt anyone had ever made to ask him out, not that anyone had recently tried for that matter. It had been quite a long time since he made any effort to date, let alone socialize with peers outside of his work. He found himself burning to accept her offer…but it would be kinder in the long run if he didn’t get involved with her at all.

She took a deep breath and exhaled before turning back to face him again; hands neatly folded again in her lap, gaze burning with embarrassment and longing. “What I’m trying to say, I like your company. And I want to spend more time with you…outside our lessons.”

 “I do not think that is a wise idea.” He said softly.

The spark that had illuminated her bright blue eyes so brilliantly suddenly sputtered out. His heart sank as her expression did. He cursed himself silently.

“Because you’re my Hahren…?” She hedged.

“That is one reason, but I would prefer if you called me your Instructor.” He said, deflecting.

“--Instructor, right. Dalish habit.” She amended, looking away again. “If it makes you uncomfortable…I…didn’t mean to…I should go. _Ir abelas_.”

She hastily exited the car.

Half a beat later, he followed her.

What he would tell himself in the future, to justify his impulsivity, was that he couldn’t have left her looking that despondent. It would not have been right to leave things between them like that.

“Elena, wait.” He called, catching her by the crook of her elbow.

She spun around into him, curls bouncing around her face as the faintest glimmer of hope rekindled in her eyes.

 “Yes?” She asked, peering up at him curiously.

He could tell she was trying to contain the hopeful expression behind an impassive mask, but it was evident she was struggling. Neutral faces were not Elena’s strong suit. A lone curl had fallen out of place and his fingers on his free hand twitched to push it away from her cheek.

Instead, He released her elbow and tucked his hands firmly behind his back. He was already allowing himself to step over one boundary, if he overstepped anymore it would be selfish…but…

 _Damn it all_.

“If I were to perhaps… forgive my use of the word, but… ‘ _accidentally_ ’ arrive early again next week, would you be opposed to it?”

The grin that she had been holding back split across her face, and effectively stopped his heart.

“Of course not! You better ‘ _accidentally_ ’ come hungry for pancakes!” She teased, lightly poking him in the chest and restarting his pulse.

“I will forget to eat before I leave.” He said, matching her playful tone with a small inclination of his head before adding, “On accident, of course.”

“See you next week at eight!” She chirped with a wink.

He excused himself with smile of his own, slowly taking small steps backwards from her as she walked up to her porch. She turned around when she got her key in the door and gave one last bashful wave before slipping inside.

He returned to the car, buckled himself in, started the engine, and hoped against all hope that he had not just cut his own brakes.

* * *

 

Every night since, he dreamt of Elena.

The dreams started off innocent enough; the two of them on simple drives—much like the ones they took in the waking world. His sleeping mind focused in on her laughter, her teasing comments, kind gestures, their effortless, lighthearted conversation. A natural banter, give and take, ebb and flow--so to speak—that he had forgotten could happen between two people.

By Friday, the dreams had become fixated on other parts of Elena.

The curve of her smile, softness of her lips, the way her fingertips felt against his skin, leaving hot trails of pleasure he refused to acknowledge when he was awake. He began to dream about the way her body would feel pressed beneath his. Soft grazes becoming lingering touches, intentionally intimate embraces, heavy sighs against eager mouths, the taste of her lips and rhythm of her --

He woke with a small gasp, bolting straight up in his bed.

He took a steadying breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. It had been quite some time since he last had a dream of _that_ nature, and even though it had been undeniably pleasant it also brought guilt. He looked down at himself and sighed. His mind wasn’t the only thing aroused. He needed to take a shower.

A cold one.

After his less than satisfying freezing shower, he put on a variation of his usual attire: a pair of tan slacks and green button up shirt, pulling his favorite cream cashmere sweater over top. He adjusted the collar as he checked his phone, determined to keep his mind from wandering back to Elena. It was the first time in a long time that he had let something, or someone rather, distract him like this. He needed to keep a level head today, and especially later tonight for the Guild’s race.

“ ** _You have two new messages. First voice message_**.”

“ _Oh Solas, just calling to check in on you. I know this week at work must have been just dreadful without your favorite temp there to entertain you. You must miss me terribly_.”

There was a warm laugh on the line, and then Dorian continued.

“ _But on a serious note, please do keep in touch. I still expect debates over coffee or tea or whatever substance it was you hid in that tumbler you would always bring. Give me a call this weekend when you can spare a moment. Maker knows you have loads of them.”_

Solas rolled his eyes as he deleted the message, making a mental note to set a reminder in his phone to call Dorian tomorrow. The DMV office had a going away party for him last Friday and Solas had actually stayed for it. It was…bittersweet in a way. Dorian had begun his new job at Inquisition Medical on Monday, and though he would never admit it to Dorian’s face, Solas did miss his witty commentary. He really out to catch up with Dorian to see how he was fairing.

“ ** _Next Message_**.”

“ _On dhea Solas. Vis ma ema’em, ma nuvena sul'ema em ve. Vis ma sul’ema’ em ve, ma tel’ema’em. Ahn ame’ar?.”_

The line clicked. The automated voice came back on, listing options for Solas to pick from in regards to the voicemail.

He held the phone against his mouth, tapping it against his lips. A riddle, the perfection distraction from a distraction and so very typical of Sileal.

_If you have me, you want to share me. If you share me, you no longer have me. What am I?_

He smiled to himself as he pulled the phone back, deleted her voicemail, and began typing his answer in a text.

[ **Solas** ]  
El'u.  
7:05 AM

His smile turned into a smirk as he returned the favor.

[ **Solas** ]  
Ahn ea danem i'tel eal emem?  
7:06 AM

He slipped his phone into the pocket of his slacks and shimmied into the DMV jacket he took off the hook on the back of his bedroom door, already mentally compiling more riddles to fire off to Sileal. She was coming up to visit this weekend, for two reasons; one because of the race this evening, and two it was their biweekly lunch get together on Saturday.  He calculated the train ride from Orlais would take six hours-- if it wasn’t a direct ride--perhaps she needs the distraction as much as he did. Solas hoped these riddles would be able to keep his mind busy and from dwelling on…well, he wasn’t about to start thinking about her, now was he?

* * *

 

The Old Temple situated up on the highest point of Haven was rumored to be the actual site of _the_ Temple of Sacred Ashes from ages ago. It was more or less an utterly abandoned ruin now, excavated and thoroughly picked apart for every last priceless artifact that could have been plundered from its remains, all sold to various Museums and art collectors throughout Thedas, or claimed by the Chantry. The bare bones of its foundation were all that are left standing. Empty, open archways, stone floors, full of crumbling pillars, jagged rock piles, loose floorboards…a death trap for the naïve, but a challenge for those brave enough to wander its corridors.

Which is exactly why it was chosen as the track for the Guild’s latest circuit. If one defines “chosen” as Red Jenny blackmailing the Guild into letting her pick the locations and vehicle preferences of the next three races, not to mention donate half their profits accumulated from bets to the Alienage in Denerim. Apparently she had managed to compile copious amounts of evidence of embezzlement and they were ultimately at her mercy.

Solas had to admit he was impressed with her dedication and sympathized with her cause, for he donated half of his winnings to a good organization too. In his case the hospital, Inquisition Memorial, in Haven, justifying that if he could no longer be a part of that world directly, he would do it indirectly. All of his donations were anonymous.

As Solas pulled up to the grand archway, he noticed the other racers had already begun to take their places underneath it. His eyes zeroed in on Hawke. She was leaning against her own custom designed bike, black with blood red detail work done in the shape of none other than a Hawk. Solas did a double take, or perhaps it was a dragon. It was hard to tell when she was covering half of it.

On Hawke’s left was Red Jenny, already seated and rowdily exchanging profanities with someone standing on the sidelines. To her left was the ex-Warden, Blackwall. He didn’t say much but was an always present threat during the races. His ability to keep low and cut corners when a racer least expected it made him decent competition, especially when courses like this were full of winding twists and turns. It was also worth noting Blackwall was a mechanic, known for having made personal altercations to his bikes and cars that aided him and his style of racing.

The Iron Bull was there of course on a monster of a bike, impossible to miss and without a helmet.

Or shirt.

_Figures._

Solas rolled his eyes.

Solas recognized a couple other of the racers down the line, two in particular. One of which was a blonde haired elf wearing a dark brown leather jacket with a crow etched into the back, deep in conversation with the second racer--a dark skinned woman with lots of gold piercings and no helmet. He watched as the woman flipped her thick hair around and cooed at Merrill, who squealed with delight and waved vigorously.

 _Zevran_ _and Isabela_ , Solas recalled, both notorious for their foul play during races, often working as a tag team to take out other racers. They didn’t race fair, but then again, this was Guild race—who ever raced fair? He always made sure that if he saw either of them approaching to steer clear of letting them near his tires.

Not that Solas had anything really to worry about with his competitors. He was confident in his own abilities, and his bike. It was that of Elvhen design, a brand no in this decade had heard of and was unique to Arlathan, the style and make renowned for its speed and flexibility. He didn’t have to fret over his competitors realizing that, they would just mistake it for a Tevinter bike. Another advantage he had over the other racers was that he had the interior of the Temple memorized.

The halls of the Temple had remained mostly intact, and there were flare markers to show the main path—not that the racers had to stay on it the whole time. Which Solas did not intend to do, he knew many secret corridors and shortcuts he was sure no one else knew about. The objective was simple enough: race through the ruins, out through the courtyard and past the garden wall to win.  Like most Guild races, it didn’t matter how you got to the finish line as long as you got there in one piece.

“Did you think on what I said, Wolf?” Hawke’s sneering voice echoed throughout the hall above the noise of the crowd, breaking his pensive brooding.

He tugged at his gloves, without making eye contact.

“I will have you know, I did.” He said flatly, still without giving Hawke his full attention.

“I take it that means you came clean. I wonder, should I look for Elena in the crowd tonight?”

“No.” His answer came out clipped, and eyed her from the side.

“Are you sure about that?” Hawke’s smile turned wicked.

His stomach plummeted.

_There’s no way she would be here. No way._

_…but what if?_

He could feel Hawke scrutinizing him intently as he snapped his head towards the bystanders, suddenly grateful he had decided to put on his helmet before he pulled up to take his place. His eyes roamed the myriad of faces, searching for a round freckled one with a blue tattoo over the left eye.

 He found none.

A wave of relief washed through him and he let go of the breath he didn’t realize he had been holding.

“Absolutely sure.” He zipped the front of his padded black leather jacket, a safety precaution, pulling it snug around his torso and chest.

Hawke’s expression turned sour as she pieced together he did not, in fact, tell Elena anything. She leaned over and hissed at him.

“Second warning.”

“Noted.”

Ignoring the physical intrusion, he reached up an adjusted his helmet, making sure it was secure. He saw Hawke pull back and do the same out of the corner of his eye. A ripple of last minute helmet and idle bike checks meandered its way through the line of racers. To his right, the last racer pulled up.

The white wolf.

Solas cast a side long glance at Fenris, the other “wolf” who often frequented these races. The crowds that showed for these events _loved_ when the wolves raced. Solas could not place how exactly but he felt it heighten the competitive atmosphere.  Fenris was a very close friend of Hawke, and to be situated between the two of them was not ideal. Not that they mirrored Zevran and Isabela’s racing style to any extent, he just didn’t feel like constantly being bombarded with reckless behaviors during the race.

The two wolves glared at each other silently before turning away to face the dwarf that had walked out in front of the line. Upon closer inspection, Solas put a face to a name. Bartrand Tethras, own of the Guild.

“Listen up! I’m not repeating myself,” Bartrand bellowed, and the hall fell into excited silence, “You know the rules, or at least the important ones.”

He eyed Zevran and Isabela specifically, and Solas heard some comment in Antivan from Zevran that made Isabela cackle.

“The first across the garden wall takes the prize.” He signaled for another dwarf, the flagger, to take her place.

“May the best racer win.”

He shot Red Jenny a dark look before he slipped off to the sidelines with other members of the Guild, all murmuring in hushed whispers. The noise level rose instantly when the flagger raised her arms in the air. The deafening roar of the crowd set Solas’ heart racing.

He took a deep breath, and began his mental countdown.

_3_

Gloved hands found their home on the handlebar grips, fingers on his right hand ghosting over the throttle. His left foot came to sit up on the foot rest, getting ready to use the clutch.

_2_

He leaned in slightly, letting go of the tension in shoulders as he waited for the flagger to drop the signal.

_1_

_Revas_.

He kicked off with his right foot as his left hit the clutch, his fingers curled around the throttle and he took off. The sound of tires screeching and engines roaring was music to his ears as the far end of the room rapidly approached.

The racers fought for starting positions as the hall narrowed, for only a few would be able to fit through the exit at a time. He fell into the comfortable position of third, letting Red Jenny and Hawke take first and second place, respectively. He knew taking the lead at the start of the race was never the way to win it. Waiting for the opportune moment to seize the first spot was key, and the opportune moment varied depending who it was in front of him.

In his mirrors, he could see Blackwall tailing close behind, having the similar idea to hang back and let the more reckless racers tire themselves out first. Behind him was Zevran and Isabela, already picking on one of the racers he didn’t recognize. Fenris was nowhere to be seen.

They hadn’t even got more than a hundred feet away from the grand hall before Solas hear the sound of lewd swearing, a thud, and loud crash to know Zevran had taken out one of the competitors.

One less for Solas to worry about.

He focused his attention ahead, the first sharp turn at the end of the narrow corridor was approaching. He watched as Hawke ran over a fallen piece of wood, powering her way over rubble not trying to avoid it. Solas slowed his speed as he approached the turn, easily avoiding the fallen debris and slipping around the corner with ease.

Solas heard Isabela’s infamous cackle and checked his mirrors again. She and Zevran were on either side of Blackwall, taking turns intimidating him into either making a reckless decision to speed up or fall back. The warden paid them no mind and kept his focus solely ahead.

As long as Zevran and Isabela were distracted by Blackwall, Solas had nothing to concern himself over. His short cut was coming up.

He sped up, coming up on Hawke’s tail without her seeming to notice. He smiled to himself as abruptly cut off her. She swerved slightly to avoid getting clipped, nearly running into a crumbled sculpture of a Templar.

“Assho--hey! Where do you think you’re going, Wolf?” She called at him as he barreled through a half broken door, knocking off its feeble hinges.

This corridor was a much faster, but dangerous, way to the sanctuary--which was where the main path would deposit all the racers before they reached the courtyard. Solas flew by the many destroyed portraits of Andraste and Shartan, too damaged and unsalvageable for the art collectors and officials of the Chantry to covet. He passed what was left of a room that had appeared to have exploded from the inside out. Black scorch marks littered the walls and pieces of stone and rubble had been scattered everywhere, as if a massive blast had strewn them haphazardly into the corridor. He carefully maneuvered his way through the boulders and made a sharp right at the end of the hall.

The sanctuary side doors were in sight when a red blur popped out of one only remaining unblocked corridors in front of him.

“ _Fenedhis_!” Solas hissed under his breath, quickly diverting the incoming bike.

“Wot do you think yer doing!” Red Jenny screamed and lurched away from him, flipping him off at the same time.

“Apparently the same as you.” Solas retorted back to her over the sound of their engines, kicking down on the clutch to shift into a higher gear, racing Red Jenny to the end of the hall.

They both hit the door wide open and rode out into spacious Sanctuary, speeding alongside the pews as the rest of their competition entered from the main path through a crumbled hole in the wall beneath the pulpit.

At the end of the Sanctuary was a very large, open foyer; a massive defaced bronze statue of Andraste stood in the center of it causing Solas to have to make a split decision, right or left to go around it. He chose left, and Sera went in the opposite direction.

He was about to shift gears one last time when a sharp movement caught his eye through the giant, cracked glass windows at the end of the foyer. Two figures were waiting on the other side of the wall by the shatter glass doors that led out into the yard. As he closed in on the remaining distance, he could make out their uniforms.

_Templars._

Someone had tipped them off about the race, and they were waiting in the gardens to ambush the unsuspecting racers.

Instead of shifting into a higher gear, Solas downshifted, decelerating abruptly without losing control of his bike. He felt the gusts of wind whipped up by two racers as they raced by him, a blur of white that could only be Fenris shot out through the doors first, followed closely by the Iron Bull. Sera threw him a dirty look through the visor of her helmet and before taking off into the garden after them.

The sirens started almost immediately.

Hawke and Blackwall followed shortly, matching Solas’ pace as the three of them cleared the doorway together.

“Fuck! I knew it! I knew Aveline and Pentaghast would pull this shit!” Hawke remarked as she watched as a swarm of Templars burst forth from their hiding spots all over the garden.

It turned into chaos.

More racers were spilling out of the foyer behind them blind to what was going on in the courtyard until it was too late. Solas watched carefully as people abandoned the goal of winning the race, and shifted into getting past the blockade the Templars had set for them.

“You mouthed off in front of Aveline, tipping her off--didn’t you!” Blackwall yelled at Hawke accusingly.

“Yes, because I so badly wanted the Guard Captain to crown me Champion pinned against her car in handcuffs while my girlfriend watched. What can I say, I’m into kinky shit.” Hawked fired off sarcastically as she pulled back, letting Blackwall and Solas speed ahead of her. Solas allowed Blackwall to pass him, watching him take a chance at maneuvering the pandemonium in the middle of the yard.

His opportune moment had arrived.

Blackwall drew the attention of the remaining Templar not currently engaged in pursuit of a racer. And not just any Templar, it was Seeker Pentaghast herself. She forced Blackwall to veer left, entering into the maze of fallen pillars and crumbled statuaries crawling with Templars, leaving Solas with a clear shot ahead through the open gate directly ahead.

He accelerated at top speed across the large expanse of the remaining courtyard.  The bone-chilling sounds of vehicles crashing drew his attention. In his right hand mirror a flying figure caught his eye. He turned his head around and watched in slow motion as Hawke collided with a Templar, sending her tumbling off of her bike and skidding across the stone pavement before smacking her shoulder against the side door of a car. She hit the ground and fell still.

Solas whipped his head around to face forward again at the last second, and realized he had made a horrible mistake as he stared at the road just outside the gate. He should have known there would be spike strip waiting for any of the racers who managed to make it past the ambush, but he had been to focused on his goal to see the finer detail. He downshifted at the last possible moment, taking a sharp turn to the right without checking to avoid the strip. Panic flared in his chest as took in the sight of an abandoned Temp car parked a few feet away that was now steadily approaching.

There was no way he was avoiding that collision. The car was obscuring the entire road and he had nowhere to turn. He slammed on his breaks, attempting to lessen the damage he was inevitably going to take when they collided.

He didn’t even want to think about how fast he was going when he hit the car.

The momentum from the impact sent him reeling over the handlebars of his bike, and over top of the vehicle. He crashed against something incredibly hard, and solid; his head slamming against stone so forcefully he saw stars. His vision blurred when his body hit cool ground.

He focused on the sound of his ragged breaths, trying to tune out the slowly deafening ring that had begun to resonate in his ears. He tried to pick his head up but it only made the world spin faster and the stars in his eyes burn more brightly.  His head slumped back down rather harshly. The last conscious thought he had was that he was thankful only his helmet had cracked before his vision faded to black.

* * *

 

The sound of new sirens brought him back.

How long had he lain there? It couldn’t have been long, no Templars had arrived to check on him or arrest him yet, so he figured he must have blacked out for no longer than ten minutes.

He opened his eyes and tried to lift his head again.

He winced, pain arced from the base of his skull around the side of his temple, but he didn’t pass out again. He looked around him cautiously; he had crashed landed into an empty fountain. A fifteen foot Templar fountain as it would ironically be. He drew the conclusion that the surface he had bashed his head against was the large stone and metal shield the Templar was holding, poised as if under attack.

 He turned his attention towards the source new alarms echoing through the enclosed courtyard. Through his obscured vision, he could see new figures pouring out of ambulances parked in the yard through the decimated outer walls. Loud voices rose above the chaos as the paramedics rushed out onto the scene. One voice in particular stood out.

_He knew that voice._

He tried to place it, but it only made the excruciating pounding in his head all the more painful. He traced the owner of a voice to a woman. Being roughly a foot shorter than anyone else, she was quite easy to spot despite his current vision problems. She was standing in the middle of the yard over a broken body, shouting off directions in a bold, clear voice to the other first responders as if she born to command. He couldn’t quite make out any other details about her through the haze in his eyes, but he noted how the other medics rushed to answer her every call. She was clearly in charge.

Solas pushed himself up onto his elbows to get a better look. The woman adjusted the headset she was wearing and was yelling into it quite forcibly as she tended to fallen Templar before her, giving the receiver on the set a hard time about the situation.

As much as the scene fascinated him, Solas decided it was about time he snuck out of there while everyone was distracted. He didn’t want to be seen, or chance that someone might recognize or apprehend him. After all, what he had been involved in was illegal, and he didn’t need anything more on his record.

He tried to stand, he really did.

But he only made it half way up before he unceremoniously fell to his knees, clashing loudly against the Templar car. He cringed as the sound ricocheted in his ears, sounding much louder in his head than it probably did in the courtyard. His vision swam again, and he clutched the car to support his weight. He stole a glance back up to see if his fumble had been noticed.

It had.

His sudden collapse caught the attention of the lead paramedic. She immediately stood up and shouted at the nearest EMT, pointing to the body at her feet before taking off in his direction. She catapulted herself over the rubble of the wall separating the narrow alleyway--that he had so thoughtlessly turned onto-- with ease, gracefully landing twenty feet in front of him. He quickly looked away, searching for any possible route he could crawl to get out of this. Fate was against him. He let himself slide down the side of the car to rest on the ground, his head slumping forward.

“There’s another, over here!” She tossed over her shoulder, closing distance between them in seconds.

She knelt down in front of him, getting on his level. He felt her thin but firm fingers ghost over the patch of skin at his neck, checking for a pulse, while her other hand steadied his shoulder. He had been falling forward and not even noticed.

“Alive.” Her voice came out in a relieved rush, and her tone tugged at something in his gut.

 _He knew that voi… oh no_.

_Oh no, no no…._

He forced himself to lift his head up, blinking several times to clear away the fog in his eyes and finally look at his rescuer. The world seemed to stop spinning as he focused in on her freckled face, and he felt his heart rhythmically beating against his ribcage as if it might burst from his chest. At this rate he was more likely to die of a heart attack.

Brilliant, bright blue eyes peered down at him full of concern as she pulled her hand away from his neck and checked her hand for blood. She gently placed a tentative hand on his helmet and smiled one of those breathtakingly beautiful smiles at him.

“You’re going to be alright. My name is Elena, I’m with the Inquisition and I’m going to take care of you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elven Translations:
> 
> On dhea- good morning
> 
> (Q): Vis ma ema’em, ma nuvena sul'ema em ve. Vis ma sul’ema’ em ve, ma tel’ema’em. Ahn ame’ar?- If you have me, you want to share me. If you share me, you no longer have me. What am I?  
> (A): El'u- a secret
> 
> (Q):Ahn ea danem i'tel eal emem?- What gets broken without being held?
> 
> revas-freedom
> 
> Thank you for bearing with me and my impossible updating schedule. I am the slowest writer and I am so sorry! I really am trying to work at my speed. Sometimes I really need a good shove haha if anyone wants to provide said shoving, you can do so on tumblr:::
> 
> I created a writing blog where I post all my fics here: [blue-eyedbirdchirps](http://blue-eyedbirdchirps.tumblr.com/)!  
> and I have a personal blog where you'll find my shrine to Fen'Harel (along with personal, aesthetic, space/sci fi posts, and some memes: [littleblue-eyedbird](http://littleblue-eyedbird.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> feel free to follow/message me on either of those if you wana chat/ask questions! :3 
> 
> Also, anyone got an answer for Solas' riddle?


	6. Promises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Q: Ahn ea danem i'tel eal emem?- What gets broken without being held?  
> A: A promise
> 
> (nod to the chapter title)
> 
> thank you to everyone who guessed Solas' riddle! all of your answers (a heart, Silence, Trust, and Faith) all definitely fit!

Solas couldn’t believe his eyes, or his ears for that matter. Surely his half dazed, semi-conscious mind was playing some kind of horrible trick on him. Or this was some wretched twist of fate. Her name continued to resonate in his mind like a hypnotic chime. It took him a moment to realize she had continued to talk to him after introducing herself.

“We have all the other racers accounted for, so you must be the infamous _Dread Wolf_ , by process of elimination.” Her voice twisted into something hard and so unlike the sweet chirp he was used to when she said his alias-- but it was still her voice.

His heart practically jumped up into his throat, restricting his own entirely.

“Well Wolf, can you tell me your real name?” Elena queried a little louder after he didn’t respond, one hand placed gingerly over his cracked helmet to steady him, eyes skimming his body checking for any obvious injuries, before pointing a finger at his visor. “And don’t you dare say Fen’Harel because I will _not_ put that down on the hospital admission record.”

A part of him wanted to laugh, and another part of him wanted to scream.

He couldn’t give his real name. This was not how he intended her to find out his secret. So instead, he remained silent.

Concern crept into her eyes at his prolonged silence. “Are you able to speak?”

He had to answer her at some point, but his brain was having trouble forming coherent thoughts on what to tell her, how to tell her. He opened his mouth but halted the sound before it could form words. A new realization dawned on him. Surely she would recognize his voice the second he said something, in the same way he recognized hers. He immediately closed his mouth, and the words died on his tongue. He opted to shake his head ‘no’, and pretend not to be able to speak.

But oh how that was a mistake.

The world lurched and spun out of his control. He felt her hands move to grasp his shoulders, preventing him from toppling forward into her. She was _so close_. Had his helmet not been in the way, he could have kissed her.

 “Don’t move! I don’t know the extent of your injuries yet and any sudden movements might cause more damage.” Elena yelped, the hard edge her voice had taken on earlier vanished and was replaced with one of pure concern, “Focus on the sound of my voice. Where are you feeling pain? Can you point to it?” She asked, this time gently.

He took a steadying breath and focused on the way the genuine concern colored her tone, the way her fingers dug into his upper arms and lightly glided up his shoulder to rest there again.  He gestured to his head with a feeble hand and tried to pull away, to put some distance between her and his thundering heart.

“Please stay still.” She pleaded, and he found himself anchored by guilt locked in her gaze, unwilling to tear his gaze from hers, “Where else do you feel pain?” She asked slowly once he had stopped wriggling himself away.

He pointed to his head again.

“Just your head? What about your neck, your back, your chest?...”

He made a so-so hand gesture at the areas he felt some pain as she listed off parts of his anatomy, thinking his body wasn’t actually in much pain at all. It was only his head, so being the stubborn man that he was, tried to stand to prove he was fine when she looked over her shoulder at the scene behind her. She rapidly stood once she noticed what he was trying to do, and caught him under the arm when his legs gave out. His head was throbbing from the effort and felt like it might combust.

 “You really ought to stop trying to tear yourself away from me, I’m only trying to help.”

She wrapped her arms around his torso and pulled him close. Despite being much shorter than he was, she bore his weight without the slightest tremor—even when his willpower failed him and he sagged against her. Her looks were deceiving; she was much stronger than he had given her credit for. He had mistaken all her soft curves for exactly that—but underneath those soft edges lay hardened muscle, that he could feel tensing as she brushed up.

He would not let himself think about that, or how much he liked the way she felt nestled into his side.

She called to one of the figures meandering ahead of them, “Pavus! Get a stretcher over here, stat!”

He shut his eyes and groaned.

Dorian was here too.

This night could not get any worse.

Solas tried to focus on something other than the pain as they hobbled towards the Tevinter but he found it extremely difficult. He let out a pained gasp when he tried to shift some of his weight off Elena, and it only caused her to wrap herself more tightly around him. In any other situation, he would have greatly enjoyed it, but in this moment he wanted nothing more than to run.

Several figures rushed towards them. Solas could make Dorian’s distinct outline among the other responders as he approached. He felt Dorian hook his arm under his and together, Elena and Dorian placed him on the stretcher.

“What do we have here?” Dorian inquired.

“Adult Male, head trauma. We have to remove his helmet to assess the extent of the damage, but he needs to get set up safely first.”

They carried him over to one of the ambulances placed him upon the gurney inside. Elena was about to climb in with them when someone yelled out to her.

“ _Nehnisa_ , we need you—he’s bleeding out!” A frantic responder cried, her crimson hands glistening in the bright flashes from the ambulance’s lights.

“Cole, signal the others to take the first round of victims to the hospital, while you, Dorian, get this man situated.” She glanced back out at the Templar lying in a slowly spreading pool of blood a few yards away, “I have to stabilize the Knight-Commander before we try and move him. I’ll need your help when we arrive.” Elena commanded, and through the haze of his vision he watched her bound away from the ambulance to where the another responder was tending to Templar.

A figure Solas hadn’t noticed at first suddenly moved into his line of sight, a young man with white blonde hair that glowed in the florescent light inside the vehicle went to seal the ambulance doors.  He had a sort of lanky frame that was drowning in a pair of pale pink scrubs, and when he turned around, Solas was greeted with a pair of piercing blue eyes that bored into him with such intensity it was almost as if the boy could read every passing thought flitting through his mind. Solas jumped in his gurney when the sirens started up and the emergency vehicle took off for the hospital.

“Help me with his helmet.” Dorian motioned the boy closer.

“He doesn’t want you to take it off yet.  He wants to say before you see.” The boy named Cole cocked his head, his eyes stayed glued to Solas.

“Cole, in common if you please. We need to find out if he’s bleeding beneath it.”

“He’s not.” Cole replied.

“Still, we need to get the helmet off.”

Dorian’s fingers reached for his helmet and Solas caught him by the wrist.

“Dorian, wait. Allow me.” His voice came out a little shakier than he would have liked.

Dorian froze, eyes widening in shock, “ _…Solas_?”

 Solas released Dorian’s wrist and tenderly reached up to remove his helmet.  Cole was immediately at his side helping him ease the head gear off.

“I cannot believe my eyes. You!” Dorian said, brandishing a hand at him in disbelief, his mouth gaping.

“Yes, me.”

“You’re….You’re Fen’Harel….you race!”

“Yes, Dorian. That much is now obvious.” Solas quipped, reaching a tentative hand behind his head and wincing when his fingers brushed over a bump.

“Don’t. Touch.” Dorian snapped, snatching his hand away as his shock faded and turned into annoyance, “You are extremely lucky you came out of this mess relatively unscathed. Some of the other racers…were not as fortunate.”

Solas hadn’t realized the pile up was that bad. Then again, he had crashed outside of gates, away from the main mess.

“Were there any….” Solas trailed off, his mind too foggy to form complete sentences. But Dorian seemed to get the gist of it.

“No fatalities. At least to my knowledge. That Knight-Commander though… I didn’t see the wound myself, but I heard it was deep—possibly hit an artery.”

Solas tried to inconspicuously touch his head again while Dorian was explaining, but the Tevinter caught him a second time.

“Don’t make me put a C-Collar on you.” He snipped.

Solas glared at him. “You would do no such thing.”

“Touch that bald head of yours one more time and I _will_ put the C-cone of shame on you, Dread Wolf. Legally, I should.” Dorian laughed sardonically to himself, “Elena would get a kick out of that.”

“Elena…” Solas voice suddenly got thick as his tongue tumbled over her name. He had momentarily forgotten her in his dazed stupor and Dorian’s incessant teasing. He vaguely registered his leather jacket being tugged off of him by the boy named Cole. “You work with her.”

“Yes, I do. She trained me all this week.” Dorian smiled fondly, “She’s quite the gifted miracle worker that one.” He rolled up Solas’ sleeve to clean the skin at the crook of his elbow with a disinfectant wipe, prepping him for an I.V., “I tried calling you this morning to tell you I spent every day with your Dalish darling to make you jealous but you never returned my call.”

“I intended to return it tomorrow.” Solas offered lamely.

“Mhm.” Dorian hummed disbelievingly, “But you’re here now and I can gloat about it and watch your reactions in person.”

Solas’ expression soured.

“Ah there’s the scowl I’ve missed so dearly. No worries, I’m sure Elena can fix that too. She will most definitely want to be assigned to you—“

“No!” Solas exclaimed, jerking his arm out of Dorian’s grasp. His objection came out louder than necessary. Dorian looked at him, confusion blooming across his face.

“I thought you’d want Elena to treat you. It’d be _romantic_.”

Elena couldn’t treat him. She’d find out before he had the chance to explain himself.

“She doesn’t know.” Cole interrupted.

“What?” Dorian looked between Solas and Cole.

“Elena doesn’t know the Wolf is you, you didn’t tell her.” Cole clarified, still staring at Solas—who stared curiously back.

Was he…reading his mind?

“Well you didn’t tell me either, and I’m absolutely heartbroken.” Dorian feigned offense, and Solas felt a slight pinch as he inserted the needle attached to the catheter and rapidly attached and started the I.V. drip.

“I do not have to tell the world my personal affairs.” Solas snapped, tearing his attention away from the strange boy.

“Elena and I aren’t the world, Solas, We’re your friends…or the closest thing you’d have to them, if you’d give us the chance.”

Dorian’s statement made his stomach clench.

 “And friends confide in each other. You owe me an explanation over coffee.” Dorian stated matter-of-factly.

“I didn’t realize either of you thought so highly of me.”

“That’s what happens when you are forced to spend eight hours of a day tossing charming insults back and forth with your co-worker. Friendship blossoms in the oddest of places. And as for Elena, you should hear the way she talks about you.” Dorian said smugly.

“I—what? She speaks of me?”

Now was hardly the time to feel elated.

And yet.

“She thinks very highly of you, so much so she practically wouldn’t shut up about it this week.”

“A sharp mind, a warm smile, and a clever tongue. She also often wonders what else your tong—“

“Cole,” Dorian interrupted, “remember what we said about not announcing people’s private thoughts?”

 _Oh_.

Solas felt the tips of his ears start to burn.

“Right. They are private for a reason.” Cole nodded contemplatively, but then his eyes lit up as he thought of something else. “Can I say what she wants to say but hasn’t yet? It would help! I don’t think she would mind if I told him that she thinks his chin is cute or that—“

“Still private thoughts, Cole. And it’s better to ask _her_ , not me.” Dorian smiled kindly, then glanced at Solas, who was fighting to contain the blush that threatened to spill over his face, “Believe it or not, Cole is psychic. He sometimes has trouble differentiating what people are actually saying to him versus what he hears in their head. Though this makes him amazing with non-verbal and coma patients.”

Cole turned his attention back to Solas, “You should ask her what she thinks of you. You would like her answer.”

“Her answer would be vastly different if she knew the truth.”

“Different. Not doomed.” Cole countered, “You’re afraid.”

“Well maybe I should invite Elena to our “apologize to Dorian for being a shitty friend and not returning his call” lunch and you can kill two birds with one stone.”

 “Absolutely not. If I am to tell her…I…I need to do it alone.”

“Well you’ll have plenty alone time with her in the E.R.” Dorian pointed out as he double checked Solas’ I.V. idly.

Solas swallowed with some difficulty.

“Dorian...she cannot know I am there. I do not want this to be how she finds out. She deserves better than that.”

He wasn’t ready to shatter the illusion he had built around her. It was selfish, but true.

“How did this not come up before during your lessons?”

“It did, well technically it was before our lesson. I discovered she detests racing—and nearly everyone involved, save for The Champion.” Solas pinched the bridge of his nose, “How could tell her after knowing that?”

“Well, what would you like me do? Distract her every time she goes to check on the Dread Wolf? You know she will weasel her way in here regardless. She holds rank over me so it’s not like I can bar her from checking in on you.”

Solas looked imploringly at him. “Please, think of something.”

Dorian sighed dramatically. “I’ll try. But only because it’s you.”

* * *

 

All too soon the doors of the ambulance were wrenched open and he was being lifted out and rolled in through the Emergency Room entrance. He was rolled down three hallways and finally placed in a room with a curtain drawn around him. Dorian must have kept his word, because Solas saw no sign of Elena as the minutes dragged by. He lay there listening to the machines hum and as the smell of bleach and sterility that could only be associated with hospitals flooded his senses, with only Cole for company. 

He couldn’t stay here.

“Yes you could.” The psychic boy countered his thought out loud to him.

Solas lamented. “I know. But I would prefer not to.”

Solas knew he had a concussion—he didn’t need a doctor to tell him that, not with his own history in the medical field. He also knew there was nothing the hospital could do for him, besides monitor him. They would eventually discharge him with orders of to stay on bed rest for a certain length of time. He’d much rather deal with this on his own in the comfort of his home.

He eyed his chart hanging at the end of the hospital bed. Cole saw where his attention went and made to retrieve the chart for him but Solas held up a hand. He would do it himself. Slowly, he tested his limbs. He managed to crawl to the end and grab the chart without too much of the world spinning out of control. He read over the identifying information and a wave of relief washed over him.

Dorian had admitted him under an anonymous name. Mahanon Sabrae.

He was going to have to buy Dorian the most expensive coffee he could find for a month.

Or a year.

“He likes Seheron blend the best. He won’t admit it though.” Cole whispered.

Suddenly the curtains that framed his hospital bed were yanked back Solas found himself facing his very disgruntled savoir.

“You owe me.” Dorian demanded, stealing the chart out of Solas’ hands and hanging it back on the edge of the bed before continuing, “Good news, I managed to charm our obstinate old woman of a Director into assigning your case to me. Wynne wasn’t too thrilled giving me so many patients because I’m “ _new_ ”, but we’re a bit swamped at the moment so she didn’t have much of a choice.”

With the way Dorian had said new, Solas got the impression he was really implying “ _from Tevinter_ ”.

 “Greater news, now you have to deal with me.”  

Dorian quickly ran a few preliminary tests on him, asking him a few questions about the condition he was, had Solas follow his finger with his eyes, do a few stretches and pressed on parts of his back and neck to see if it elicited a pain response. Solas winced a couple times as Dorian’s fingers nimbly found sore spots at the back of his neck and top of his back.

When he finished the last test with a flourish Dorian quipped, “Preliminary tests suggest you have a concussion--a diagnosis that surprises absolutely no one. I’m assigning Cole to monitor you for now. I can now give that woman out there nagging about you an official status report.”

Solas stomached dropped.

“Elena—“

“I didn’t tell Elena,” Dorian huffed exasperatedly, “And it’s not her anyway—you won’t have to worry about running into Dalish sweetheart for at least the next fifteen minutes. She’s with our leading doctor and OR Surgeon prepping the Knight-Commander for emergency surgery. The woman in question claims to be your emergency contact—all though we have no proof of such claims since you won’t give us any identifying information.” Dorian shot him reprimanding glare, “So how she knows how you’re here is a mystery considering you aren’t in our system.”

“Old friends, soul mates, two faces of the same spirit, drawn from the same breath in another world.” Cole’s breathy voice startled Dorian, who had not seen the boy hovering a few feet behind him.

“Sileal.” Solas exhaled, and sank carefully down into the bed, “If she is permitted back, I would very much like to see her.”

“I suppose I could arrange that...” Dorian contemplated, twirling the end of his mustache.

“Why do I feel as though there is a ‘but’ coming on?”

“But, you must promise me a lunch with explanations first.”

Solas hesitated, and after a beat gave his word.

“I promise.”

 He couldn’t avoid Dorian forever and the sooner he saw Sileal, the sooner he could get out of the E.R.

“You promise what.”

“ _Really_?”

Dorian crossed his arms and furrowed his brows.

“Fine. I promise to answer any questions you might have over lunch.” Solas clarified.

“Much better! I’ll call you tomorrow when I get off my shift—and you better answer this time!” Dorian flashed him a blinding smile and strode out from Solas’ room, snapping the curtain shut behind him.

* * *

 

Twenty minutes later, Solas had convinced Sileal to take him home. She was heavily against his decision to be discharged without further testing to see the extent of his concussion, but Solas firmly stated he wanted to leave. He was discharged five minutes after that, a process expedited greatly by Dorian, who after being formally introduced to Sileal so graciously informed her he was looking forward to having lunch with her and Solas this weekend. Solas noticed Sileal was actively ignoring him at this point, and was completely enamored by the conversation with his Tevinter friend.

Solas couldn’t blame her for being cross with him—it was just as illegal to spectate the races as it is to participate in them, although the criminal charge varied, and she had nearly got caught. Solas assumed this was the source of her irritation, his silent treatment continued as they left Inquisition Memorial. When they had settled into his car that Sileal had taken to get to the hospital, she finally broke the silence.

 “She works at the hospital, doesn’t she.”

How Sileal figured this out was beyond him at this point, and his head was still throbbing too much for him to care.

Solas heavily sighed.

That was all the confirmation Sileal needed.

“Solas, your pride is preventing you from seeking treatment because you won’t confront her. You need to make sure this injury isn’t something serious.” She chided.

“It is not. I would rather sit with a headache for the weekend and deal with it on my own.”

“You are no longer active in the medical world, you cannot treat yourself. There are somethings in life we cannot face without the aid of others. Head injuries are among them.”

“I will be fine, I have survived worse.” He stated adamantly.

“You do not need to remind me.” Sileal said quietly.

Morose silence fell again, as unspoken memories of horrors past flooded the space between them. He tried to look out the window instead of at Sileal, but the rapidly changing scenery only caused the throbbing in his head to increase so he kept his eyes down at the clench fist of his left hand. His right hand ran over his aching brow.

“Tomorrow,” Sileal ordered as she parked in his driveway and turned to face him, “You’re going back. Promise me.”

“Tomorrow.” Solas conceded yet another promise, too weak to fight Sileal on this.

And besides, if Elena was working the nightshift tonight there was no way she would be scheduled to work the morning shift tomorrow…

…would she?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I also want to thank everyone who has left Kudos and everyone who comments on each chapter--you have no idea how much that means to me to hear your feedback!! It literally makes my day when I get the email notifications and read your wonderful comments :3 <3 they're so inspiring!
> 
> if you'd like to chat you can find me on tumblr here:  
> writing blog: [blue-eyedbirdchirps](http://blue-eyedbirdchirps.tumblr.com/)!  
> personal blog: [littleblue-eyedbird](http://littleblue-eyedbird.tumblr.com/)


	7. Bad Medicine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And I got all the symptoms count 'em 1, 2, 3  
> First you need  
> (That's what you get for falling in love)  
> Then you bleed  
> (You get a little but it's never enough)  
> And then you're on your knees  
> (That's what you get for falling in love)  
> Now this boy's addicted 'cause your kiss is the drug

“You’re back,” Cole pointed out, smiling pleasantly as he took Solas’ vitals in the triage room.

Solas fought the urge to look around to see if anyone had overheard the young nurse’s announcement, but his head felt much too heavy to move around like that. His worry must have shown on his face for Cole quickly replied, “Not to worry, she’s talking to the director right now. She’ll be here in a bit.”

“She is still working? Was she not here all night?” Solas inquired, as Cole charted his heartrate and blood pressure.

“She is. She was. They need her.”

“But it has been...” Solas trailed off, trying to count through the pounding in his head how many hours it had been since he had left the night before. He settled for a safe guess, “…over twelve hours.”

“She doesn’t mind. It makes her feel wanted. It’s home.”

He slowly turned his head to peer into the hallway out of the triage room. He could see the circulation desk and several other nurses bustling around it, dropping off files and picking new ones up, exchanging a few quick words before taking off again. Two doctors ran past his room, conversing with their physician assistants and swapping charts.

“She’ll want to see you.”

Solas averted his eyes back to Cole.

“I think it would be best if she did not.”

“You don’t want to lie to her.” Cole gestured for Solas to stand.

“Is Dorian still here as well? It might be best I saw him.”

Solas hesitated but stood as Cole motioned again to follow him out of the triage room and out into the hall. Cole lead him to an open room with a bed and several monitors, handing him a gown.

“He is. He’s been assigned your case, but not for long.”

“Wait—what, Cole what does that mean—“

But Cole disappeared, closing the curtain that sealed off his room from the hall behind him. Solas stood there staring at the billowing curtain for a few moments before turning his attention to the hospital gown in his hands. The fabric was thick and a little rough, patterned with little green diamonds.

This whole situation was too risky, he had to leave. He would explain to Sileal he couldn’t do it. She’d be mad but he could hand her irritation.

 He tossed the gown on the bed and reached for the curtain, but it was yanked back before he could grasp it. He jumped when he came face to face with Dorian.

“Ah look who’s back. I knew I shouldn’t have discharged you last night,” the Tevinter quipped, stepping into the room, causing Solas to back pedal.

 “I much prefer my own bed to these hospital cots.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Sileal wanted me to seen, again. She worries it is something more severe than I am letting on.”

“And is it?”

“No. Just a minor nuisance. But further evaluation would not hurt,” Solas admitted, begrudgingly.

“Hmm. Well, normally I’d be doing the evaluation, but I’m just stopping in to say hi. The director is forcing me to leave. Your case is being transferred, and I get to have a say in who it goes to.”

Solas stomach plummeted. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Dorian’s smile was devious, “Oh, I do, truly I do.”

Solas lunged forward to try to snag him by his white coat but Dorian slipped through the curtain and into the fray of the hospital outside before he could get a good grip. He peeked out, watching Dorian saunter over to the circulation desk and start conversing with an older woman, grey hair wound up in a tight bun, holding a carrier full of coffee. She handed one to Dorian while nodding off in a direction behind the Tevinter. Dorian glanced over his shoulder and smiled. Two figures made their way over to the desk, one very tall, very lanky, very exhausted looking and the other… his heart stuttered.

 _Elena_.

The purple shadows beneath her eyes contrasted with the blue hues of her irises, making them shine even brighter than they normally did. The tall, lanky man beside her looked even worse, the pair looked like they hadn’t slept in days. They swarmed the older woman, looking relieved and grateful at the coffee that they were now downing.

Dorian leaned into Elena and whispered something in her ear, which earned him a playful swat on the arm. When Dorian held up his arms in a sign of surrender she grinned behind her coffee cup and laughed. Solas felt his chest constrict.

Of course they would become close friends.

But then Dorian’s demeanor changed, his mirth faded as he offered Elena a chart—his chart—and his face composed itself into a more serious expression. Solas watched in slow motion as Elena’s facial expression transformed from tired amusement to shocked concern. Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped. Her coffee was placed on the desk and quickly forgotten as she flipped through his file, talking a mile a minute, to a very overwhelmed looking Dorian attempting to brief her on his case. Time sudden jolted forward again when Elena whipped her head around to look in his direction.

He snapped the curtain shut.

His heart was thundering in his chest as his mind raced. She knew he was here.

 _She knew he was here_.

He paced deeper into his room. He needed to look like he had been doing something, and not spying on her conversation with Dorian. He spotted the hospital gown he was supposed to have changed into when he first was assigned the room.

Hastily he grabbed the edge of his sweater and haphazardly pulled it over his head, or tried to, as his sweater decided not to cooperate with him and got stuck. He stopped fidgeting when he heard the sound of the curtain being drawn back.

He turned to face the noise, or the direction he thought the noise came from. A small chuckle a little off to his right caught his attention.

“Well, you look like a sweater pretzel,” a gentle voice chirped.

A pleasant sensation ran down his spine at the sound of her voice but was replaced quickly by a pang of embarrassment.

“Ah, yes, it seems you caught me at a difficult time,” he shifted towards the direction of her voice, “I appear to be stuck,” he admitted meekly, attempting to wriggle loose but in his hazy state, he only felt his sweater constrict itself tighter around his neck and jumbled limbs. How he managed to tangle a pullover he will never know. They are not complicated articles of clothing. Whatsoever.

He blamed the concussion he surely knew he had. Or the loose belt he had wrapped around his waist he suddenly remembered he forgot to take off.

“You don’t say?” she said softly, stifling a giggle when he tried to disentangle himself without success, “Oh, Solas let me help you.”

Gentle hands suddenly were pulling on his arm, freeing it from the confines of his sweater. He felt her fingers undo his belt and unwrap it from the depths of his sweater. Her hands traveled to his neck where they grabbed the fabric and pulled it off his head, being careful to avoid snagging on his ears.

She had some slight difficulty getting it off, for he was much taller and therefore loomed over her. She had to stand on her tip toes to pull it over his head. His disorientation didn’t help matters much, with his equilibrium being off his balance was all but gone. The force of her pull accidentally sent him careening into her.

There was no space between them now, with his nose brushing along her pointed crooked one, her eyes blown wide staring into him as their lips accidentally brushed.

They froze, suspended in the moment until Elena gave a subtle, shuddering sigh that danced across his lips before moving to intentionally close the remaining distance. He felt his eyes close as he leaned into the gentle press of her lips, a hand tentatively finding purchase on her hip, pulling her closer. Her mouth was even sweeter than he imagined, and slow and languid and filling. His heart soared.

But all too soon, she was pulling away from their kiss with him chasing after her mouth. Her face was flushing the loveliest shade of pink he had seen her turn yet.

“Oh…oh my, creators,” she stammered, covering her mouth with her hand, “forgive me, that was totally, unprofessional, and your wife!” her voice pitched, “I’m… so sorry, I should have never…,” she clamped her hand over mouth.

“My… wife?” he asked genuinely confused for the first time, he had no idea what she was talking about. His head was spinning for a plethora of reasons.

“You don’t remember your own wife?!” Elena gasped, eyes filling with horror, “how badly did you hit your head? Oh my gods, oh I am so, so _stupid_.”

He realized she was most likely referring to Sileal, who was sitting in the waiting room for him. It wasn’t an inconceivable assumption, they had arrived together and were friendlier towards each other than most. Elena was rambling now, lack of sleep and embarrassment jumbling her speech, and thought process.

“Please, Solas— “

“Elena—I am not mar— “

“I am so sorry for my behavior, all of it— “

“Sileal is my—“

“When you said this was a bad idea, I didn’t realize I was asking you to cheat on your wife... I never meant to put you in that position— “

“Elena— “

“Why didn’t I ask if you were married? I was pushing you and you weren’t comfortable and I didn’t even think to ask— “

He cupped her face with both of his hands, his touch silencing her. He ran a thumb over her lip.

“Elena, Sileal is my oldest friend. We are not married,” he explained, watching her flustered expression slowly melt into solely embarrassment.

“Oh,” she said quietly, ears turning pink.

“When I said it would be a bad idea, what I meant was…There are…considerations I must take into account. One major fact being I do not want it to interfere with your driving lessons.”

She remained silent for a few beats studying his expression, finally let out a breath she must have been holding, “I didn’t mean to push this on you, especially now,” she gestured to his state of undress.

“Elena, you are not. I promise you that,” he reassured her with a small smile.

“Still, this is the wrong time to discuss… well, I mean we can talk about it when you’re not in the hospital.”

He nodded and dropped his hands, letting her put more space between them.

“I’ll come back in and check up on you in a minute, give you some time to change,” she mumbled, practically running out of his room with him staring after her.

He stepped out of the comfortable pants he had worn to the hospital and put on the gown, the coarse material scratching on his bare skin. He took the few minutes to recompose himself, running a hand over his mouth where Elena had so pleasantly kissed him. He felt his ears heat up and forced himself to count to ten before sitting on the edge of the bed.

Elena reappeared a moment later and cleared her throat, looking more composed as well.

“Dorian filled me in on the basics, you were in accident?” she inquired, her cheeks draining of any color that had been left.

“Ah yes. It happened yesterday. I hit my head and thought nothing of it. I’ve been nursing a migraine for several hours now. I am here at the request of Sileal, who is more concerned than I am.”

She looked mortified.

“How fast were you going when you hit your head?”

“I…do not recall. Too fast. It happened so quickly I…” He tapered off, ignoring the impulse to rub a throbbing spot at the back of his head.

Elena moved closer, inspecting his head where he pointed out where the pain was stemming from. She was careful not to touch him for too long. She did a routine check, asking him several detail questions about the accident, where he was hit, what symptoms he was experiencing, all of which he was as honest as he could be, omitting the part where he was racing. She made him repeat back sequences of numbers, gave him words to recall, made him track a pen as she moved it in front of his face, assessing his vision. She made him stretch to see if he experienced any pain in his back or neck (which he did), and listened to his heart, among other small checks she was required to do.

“I’m sure you know you have a concussion, but the question is how serious of a concussion it is. I’m going to arrange for you to have a CT scan, we will be able to see if you have an internal bleeding. If we detect any bleeding, we will admit you and keep you overnight for observation.”

“Do not take this the wrong way, but please tell me you aren’t planning on staying to work if I am.”

She looked abashed, “Sadly, they are sending me home once I conclude with your case. But if you are admitted…” she wrung her hands.

“Go home, you need the rest. I doubt the injury is that serious. I am here to prove that.”

No matter what he said, she still looked worried. Extremely so. He felt a pang of guilt at her immense concern for him. She continued to look uneasy, and sickeningly worried as he was rolled away and prepped for his scan.

_She was so concerned… why?_

* * *

 

Once he was set up back in his room after the scan, Elena dropped in looking relieved with the results. It was as he expected, there was no internal bleeding but it was still a relatively serious concussion as evidenced by certain swollen areas in his scan. Elena briefed him on post-concussion syndrome, which already knew about given his own medical background but listened attentively anyway. He was to monitor his symptoms and if they got worse, to return as soon as possible. She paused awkwardly, shifting her wait, chewing on her words.

“What is it, Elena?”

“You aren’t going to like what I have to say next.”

He swallowed.

“This means, no driving for at least a week.”

No driving meant no lessons, and no lessons meant…no Elena.

“Ah. That seems an appropriate recommendation,” he admitted, trying to hide his disappointment and doing a poor job of it.

“I know we had talked about breakfast… last time, uhm, I’d still like to have it with you,” she said quietly, “Especially now so I can properly apologize for all of my, well you know,” she waved her hand around before she cupped her face with it, trying to conceal her blush.

He didn’t know why he acted so impulsively, he could blame his brain injury but he knew it wasn’t related to that all, but he reached up and pulled her hand away, brushing his lips against her knuckles.

“Apology accepted,” he whispered over her fingers, “we can talk in a week then, over breakfast.”

“I—ah—was hoping to talk sooner than that. You have my number still right?”

He nodded. He had considered calling her before, but… deemed it inappropriate. But now…

“Yes.”

“Why don’t you call me tomorrow and let me know how you’re doing? I can even say it’s Doctor’s orders,” she joked half-heartedly, blushing even deeper and biting her lip.

He returned her smile, still holding on to her hand.

“I can do that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got massive writer's block right in this story before their kiss, so I deeply apologize for the uh....ridiculous delay. xD I knew exactly what was supposed to happen--it was a matter of getting it into words. 
> 
> Also I wasn't sure if Solas would need a CT or MRI, I researched it but still was a little on the fence. CTs are used right after injuries occur, and MRI's are used sometime after to assess longstanding damage (as far as I inferred) I wasn't sure if 12 hours was a long enough time to qualify for using a MRI. (someone with more medical background want to help me out/correct me on this???)
> 
> thank you for sticking around with this fic! I do plan on updating it! it just won't be weekly :) 
> 
> much love, Bird <3


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